Dimensions
by IamThePasserby
Summary: Her denial was gone, her anger burnt out, and all she could do was hope that Sam and Dean had an idea; a way to get her back home, a way she could get back to her brother and her best friend. A way that she could travel back through the dimensions.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

She counted the Ibuprofen out loud as they landed in her trembling hand.

"...Four...five...six..."

The kitchen's usually warm light now seemed garishly bright, and it did nothing to ease the relentless pounding in her head. She struggled not to wince as she tilted her head back to swallow all the pills at once. Her dark hair falling lightly around her smooth face, she stood for a moment, clutching the counter top; willing the headache to dissipate. No such luck. She sighed with frustration she as left the kitchen, crossing the living room, passing her father's snoring form on the couch and muttering as she trudged up the stairs to her bedroom.

She heard it then.

"Turn left here."

Stopping with her hand on her doorknob, she glanced down the hall, finding her brother playing with his power rangers, consumed in his vibrant imagination as always.

"What was that, Josh?" she asked wearily. He momentarily left his pretend world to meet his big sister's gaze.

"What was what?" Josh asked back. She frowned. _Great. Now I'm hearing things. Stupid headache._

"Oh, never mind," she responded,"I'm just tired."

"'Kay.'Night, Anna. Love you." And he was back in his play battle with the action figures. Anna smiled and opened her bedroom door, turning to close it once inside, but not before she replied,

"Love you, baby brother."

The occasional headlights of common oncoming traffic usually went unnoticed by his roaming eyes, but on this particular night every bulb seemed to increase the intensity of the throbbing in Sam's head. Of course, the beat of AC DC's "Back in Black" wasn't helping much either, but Dean had never been too keen on letting his little brother choose the soundtrack. Besides, what Dean didn't know wouldn't worry him, and at the moment the elder hunter's fingers happily tapped out the rhythm of the music on the steering wheel while Sam blinked hard and struggled not to wince as he read the various maps of Ohio in his lap. He gestured slightly with his hand as he directed Dean toward their destination; the lair of something worth killing.

"Turn left here."

Dean obeyed, effortlessly steering the Impala through the dark and dirty back roads. He glanced over at his brother and was less than pleased to notice and recognize the expression on Sam's pained face before the younger hunter could mask it. Dean knew that particular look, and he also remembered the implications it could hold for both of them. He didn't like seeing that frustration on his brother's face, and he hated to have to ask him about it; but mostly, it just scared the heck out of him to see pain in Sammy's eyes at all. Of course, Dean never let on that he was ever scared. At least he hoped not.

"Dude, you okay? You look a little..." He posed the question casually, while hoping to god, or whoever else, that nothing was really wrong.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam lied, "Just a headache."

Dean pursed his lips, but kept his eyes focused on the road while he spoke.

"Right. Is that a headache like 'I had one too many shots last night,' or headache like 'I am Madame Cleo?'"

Dean expertly hid his apprehension as he waited for Sam to respond, and did just as well masking his relief when the response finally came.

"No, not like visions or anything. Just a headache. It's fine."

"Yeah, okay."

Sam looked over at his older brother, whose eyes remained fixed on the road, apparently expressionless. The younger Winchester resignedly turned back to perusing the maps, trying to decipher the name of a particular street while ignoring the incessant pounding in his brain.

He had just determined the elusive street's name to be "Silk Oak" when he heard it.

"Love you, baby brother."

It was almost a whisper, but it might as well have been blasted through the speakers along with AC DC for the reaction the simple statement received. Sam twisted quickly in his seat to stare incredulously at his elder brother. Dean was immediately aware of the other's sudden movement, and upon glancing at Sam's face and seeing the questioning look thereupon, Dean sensed he was about to get mightily busted for something; yet he had the distinct impression that he had missed an important detail.

The brothers broke the verbal silence simultaneously, both with different emphasis, but each inquiring the same of the other: "What?"

Anna changed into her red pajama pants and black cami, and climbed under the covers of her soft, warm bed. As she lay still, it seemed the hammering in her head grew worse. She closed her eyes and focused on the center most point of pain, trying with all of her might to push it away. _Stupid headaches,_ she thought again, _more than three weeks, and they just keep getting worse..._ She tried to focus instead on the sound of the California breeze coming through her open window. With her little finger, she traced the outline of the broken key on her favorite necklace - the good-luck charm that she never took off. Still her brain continued to throb in the otherwise peaceful quiet around her.

Of course, had Anna not been so distracted by her hurting head, she would have realized how cold it had suddenly gotten in her room.

Had the lights not been off, she would have noticed the electricity shorting out.

Had her eyes not been closed, she would have seen that the radio-clock on her dresser was flickering on and off, the red numbers becoming garbled and unreadable.

Unaware, she fell into an uneasy sleep, unconsciously fingering her necklace as she drifted off, despite the ache in her skull.

When she awoke, it was to chaos.

"Dude, I'm telling you - I didn't say it!"

Dean was defending himself almost frantically; no way was he going to be accused of _that_. Chick flick moments were _so_ not his thing.

Sam, on the other hand, was clearly enjoying himself.

"Dean, if you feel the need to voice how much you care, it's ok. You don't have to be embarrassed." Sam smirked what he knew his older brother would see as an infuriating smirk - pushing Dean's buttons was so easy and _so_ entertaining. He could see his older sibling's face reddening with frustration, and as funny as it was, Sam really was serious about what he had heard. It just struck him as intensely amusing that his brother was denying it.

Dean could not see for the life of him what was so funny. He didn't know why Sam seemed to think he had heard him saying, "Love you, baby brother," but the knew that he had said nothing of the sort, and he wasn't about to take the blame for Sam hearing things.

"Sam, I'm not gonna tell you again - I didn't say a thing, now cut it out or I swear I'm gonna -"

"Whatever man," Sam interrupted with a laugh, "Just forget it." Besides, laughing certainly wasn't helping his pounding head, and they really needed to get where they were going as fast as possible.

"Make a right up here," Sam directed as a crumbling street sign bearing the name "Silk Oak" came into view.

"This is it."

"Good," Dean grouchily replied as he turned down the dirt road and pulled up beside the solitary, dilapidated house at the end of it. "'cause I'm in the mood to kick some supernatural -" but he never finished that particular sentence. He was interrupted quite unexpectedly by what was undeniably a female scream of terror.

The brothers didn't even stop to exchange a look of surprise as the hurriedly exited the Impala and ran toward the run-down dwelling that they knew housed a murderous creature and what sounded like his next victim. The screaming stopped abruptly and the two hunters drew their guns containing iron rounds; Sam covered Dean as the elder brother kicked the front door open. Inside, the place was cold and empty, save for dust and cobwebs, but the light of a fire peeked out from under a doorway to the left. Dean motioned for Sam to take point, and the youngest Winchester stepped forward, quickly making his way to the door, weapon held steady. Dean took a stance to Sam's right, gave a nod, and the younger hunter shoved the door open wide, taking less than a second to process everything that he saw: the remains of several people-turned-dinner lay against the east wall, a conglomerate of broken bones and rotted flesh; a fireplace on the wall opposite him was full of hot flames, revealing the source of light he had seen from behind the door; an unconscious girl no older than twenty-one with dark hair and tanned skin lay on the floor against the western wall, her wrists shackled to it; and dead center of the room stood a ravenous and slightly surprised monster who had obviously just gutted the earlier screaming blond woman in his hands with his teeth.

Sam didn't pause to be disgusted by the amount of blood pooled beneath killer and killed, didn't stop to be mortified by the gory scene - he wasted no time and opened fire, pumping round after round into the vile thing before him, ignoring how much the report from each shot and the shrieks of the creature made his head hurt all the more.

Anna was forced into consciousness at the sound of a gun shot. And another. Another. She knew she was awake, and she was aware of the urge to get up and run away from whomever was shooting, but for some reason her limbs wouldn't move and her eyes wouldn't open. Lethargy clouded her thoughts and slowed down her mind. Something was making an awful screeching noise; like a dying animal. And a voice was saying, "Iron rounds won't keep him down long; we gotta get that girl out of here." Anna frowned mentally. She _really_ wanted to know just what was going on...was she dreaming? She felt something pulling at her arms, and realized that her wrists stung, and her entire body was aching. _Ow, _she thought,_ hurting...not dreaming then._ Of course, her head was still hammering, and since moving wasn't really working right now, she searched her recent memory for a clue as to what might be happening. _Headache...pills...stairs...Josh...bed...wait, JOSH!_ Concern and protective instinct flooded her half-conscious mind. If there was gunfire, she had to find her brother and make sure he was safe. Anna willed herself to wake fully, forcing her eyes open at last. What she saw would have made her gasp if shock hadn't left her frozen solid.

As Dean kept a sharp eye on the temporarily defenseless creature, Sam was releasing the dark-haired girl from the shackles, vaguely noticing the welts the metal had left on her wrists, and the fact that she was wearing red pajama pants and a black camisole. He worked quickly, prepared to pick her up and carry her out - she wasn't bleeding and she seemed all right, which was good. Then he saw her tired eyes flicker open. An expression of confusion and unmet expectation crossed her face (she obviously had no idea where she was), followed closely by fear and then utter terror at the sight of the blond woman's mangled form just feet away. Sam leaned over her, attempting to get her attention before panic could overcome her entirely.

"Hey, hey," his tone was gentle and soothing,"It's ok. We're gonna get you out of here, alright? Can you walk?"

She didn't answer, didn't make any sign that she had noticed Sam's presence at all. Her mesmerized eyes continued to linger on the mutilated mass in the center of the room. The younger brother was about to move to pick her up when her frightened gaze shifted upward, not to Sam, but to the face of the elder Winchester, still covering the incapacitated creature with his firearm. Sam paused as a new expression appeared on the girl's face now - one of recognition and disbelief. What she said next stopped both brother's cold.

"Dean?"

_Where am I? Anna thought._ Her gaze found the mess of torn flesh on the floor before her. Oh my god. All thoughts of fleeing or moving left her mind as her eyes widened in shock and her lips parted in a silent gape. Her brain vaguely registered the fact that there was someone talking to her, holding her arm, but her eyes were locked onto the horrible pooling of blood and the thing that was curled up beside it. Whoever was holding her moved closer, and she lifted her gaze a bit higher, not to the face of the person coming nearer to her, but to the other who was standing near the razed body. Her brow creased and her eyes grew wider still as she realized just how familiar his face was.

"Dean?"

Even as she said it she knew it was true. It wasn't a even question, not really - more of a surprised statement of fact, because of course there was no mistaking that rugged face, those jade-green eyes, that sandy hair that she knew so well. _No_, she corrected her self in her head,_ There is no Dean. He's just a dream. They're all just a dream. The brothers, the demons; everything. But aren't I awake? Everything hurts, I must be awake..._ But what on earth was she doing at what was obviously a crime scene with a gorgeous figment of her nighttime imagination - in her _pajamas_?!

All these contemplations flew through her consciousness in a matter of milliseconds, and she had momentarily forgotten that someone had been reaching to pull her from the ground.

"How do you know him?" came the harsh demand breaking her daze.

Anna whirled her head to see the owner of the voice she already recognized, and now she felt her mouth drop, her eyes practically bugging out of her head with disbelief and absolute incredulity.

She finally managed to gasp out a few words.

"Y-you're...you're Sam!!"

She turned back towards the elder, now thoroughly freaked out brother.

"And you...you're...!"

She twisted her head back and forth, switching her focus from man to man, not understanding how she was with two dream characters in a room full of blood.

"But...how...wha...?"

She couldn't quite form a coherent question - the shock of the corpse she had opened her eyes to was finally catching up to her, and the pain and weariness of whatever had happened was taking it's toll. Add the sudden appearance of these two, and her already throbbing migraine reached a new level of intensity.

Caught up as she was in her constant attempt to stifle the urge to scream or pass out, Anna hardly noticed the look Sam and Dean exchanged, silently agreeing to first get the girl out and calmed down, then get some answers. As Sam picked her up easily, she never paused to marvel at his strength and speed, or stopped to notice how expertly Dean's gun was trained on the creature as they retreated from the house that was the lair of a monster. She didn't even absorb the fact that she was lying in the back seat of a very familiar '67 Chevy. As they hurriedly drove away and arrived ten minutes later at a questionable looking motel, it was all a blur until the boys' raised voices broke her out of her reverie. Sitting there, car door open, legs out of the vehicle, she watched with slight apprehension and growing understanding as the two hunters argued less than a yard away from her, and a realization dawned on her as she heard what they were saying.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Dean was angry. He was confused, and angry. Dean was scared, confused and angry. Of course, he only let Sam know that he was angry - and nothing more.

Sam, meanwhile, was making an attempt to placate his angry brother.

"Look, I know this is weird; maybe even bad. But she's obviously been through a lot tonight. Lets at least get her into the motel and then we can figure out what's going on-"

"We don't know who or _what_ she is, Sam! For all we know she could be a demon or one of the other countless freaks that are always after us!"

"Dean, I just don't think she's-"

"I'm not taking her with us if I can't be sure she's safe. I can't even believe I let her into my _car_!"

"Maybe this-"

"Look, your heads been killing you all day, man; maybe she's the reason why-"

"I told you that was nothing."

Dean breathed out furiously through his nose. Sam just sighed wearily.

"Look - let's find out right now. If she's not possessed, we bring her in to talk. Okay?" The younger brother waited for his older sibling to agree.

Dean didn't like it. Not one bit. There were a million things the dazed, dark-haired girl sitting in his car could be; and who knew what could happen, or why she had known who they were in the first place? The elder Winchester pondered the question. She did look pretty darn innocent, and in some serious need of rest. _But..._

Before Dean could decide one way or the other; before he could muster up a response to Sam's compromise, his thoughts were interrupted by a third party to the conversation. Both brother's were surprised to find that it was the previously dazed twenty-something-year-old girl, watching their discussion from the back seat of the Impala less than three feet away, now looking completely about her wits and not shocked at all.

"That won't work," the girl whose name they still did not know said quite matter-of-factly.

Anna had quietly observed the boys' conversation with growing relief and even amusement, punctuated with the slightest bit of irritation when Dean had voiced his suspicions about her. _Hello, sitting right here. _She pursed her lips._ As if I can't hear._ She had heard, however - she had paid close attention to every word of the brothers' discussion so far, and in the light of certain revelations she had come to three conclusions: 1) She was definitely dreaming. 2) Considering the presence of the two very attractive twenty-something-year-old males, this was a very good dream. 3) Since this was a dream, Josh was actually in no danger at all, and she needn't worry about her little brother. _Besides_, Anna thought happily, _my headache is gone. _

She could enjoy herself now that she no longer had a reason to freak out.

Her musings were secondary, however, to the fact that she was listening carefully to the hunters' talking.

"Look - let's find out right now," Sam was saying to his elder sibling."If she's not possessed, we bring her in to talk. Okay?"

Anna frowned. She wondered if she dared interrupt and open what she knew would be a whole new can of worms for her favorite dream characters. Hell yeah.

"That won't work," she pointed out before Dean could agree to Sam's makeshift plan.

The brother's turned to stare at her - Dean incredulously and Sam quite blankly.

"What won't work?" Sam asked, by accident it seemed, judging from the startled expression on his face. Anna didn't even blink.

"Trying to figure out if I'm possessed. What are you gonna do? Spray me with holy water? That test has proved false before, and the resulting events were nearly fatal."

Now it was Dean's turn to look startled, though that particular adjective would be a major understatement considering that fact that he pulled a gun on her right then and there.

"How the heck do you know-?!"

"And an exorcism isn't even a sure hit, right?" Anna continued, despite Dean's reflexive displaying of a weapon, "I mean, after the whole Meg-inside-Sam thing, there's really no way to know for sure. Dean's right," she added, speaking mainly to Sam now," You need a smarter plan than that. It's dangerous to bring me just anywhere when you don't even know who I am. You of all people should know better."

She finished her monologue almost scoldingly, watching the reactions on the brothers' faces.

Dean was wide-eyed and clearly furious that a stranger could know so much about them. He was obviously convinced that she was some kind of evil being sent to obliterate them. Sam, on the other hand, merely stood and stared, quite expressionless and completely speechless.

The following silence lasted for about twelve seconds.

Dean was the first speak, and though he struggled to keep his voice from shaking, his firearm was held quite steady in the girl's direction.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

Anna met the elder hunter's gaze calmly.

"Anna. Anna Walker," she stated simply.

Dean gripped the gun's cold metal harder. He couldn't just kill her if he didn't know for _sure_ that she was evil, but if he didn't get some answers now, he wasn't sure he would be able to control his protective instincts.

"How do you know us?" His eyes flickered over to Sam, who had become aware of the gun in his brother's hand, and was switching his gaze from Anna to Dean and back again, clearly torn between defending the girl or drawing his own weapon and mimicking Dean. The older Winchester returned his focus to Anna's face, and was surprised to find not only that she was smiling, but that her expression triggered a wave relief in him. He tilted his head a little, unable to understand the look that was there in her eyes.

"How do you know us?" he asked again, but with less accusation this time. Anna continued to smile as she spoke.

"I see you in my dreams," she replied quietly.

Dean slowly lowered the gun as he recognized what it was he saw in the eyes of Anna Walker, and he knew that she was telling the truth, that she was not possessed or evil in any way; he looked into her honest eyes and saw something he hadn't seen in years, something he'd wished for his little brother every day:

It was innocence.

"I see you in my dreams," she replied quietly.

Sam froze as he absorbed the magnitude what Anna had just said. _Crap_, he thought, _oh crap,crap,crap,crap..._

He watched as Dean, who suddenly didn't seem so convinced of Anna's evil agenda, lowered his gun and stood straighter for a moment. The younger Winchester observed with growing confusion and slight concern as Dean moved closer to Anna, squatting before her and looking into her eyes. The girl was no longer smiling. Instead she looked confused and unsure, and she raised her eyebrows questioningly as the sandy-haired hunter gazed at her appraisingly. Then just as suddenly as he had come to down to her, Dean stood up, strode directly to the Impala's trunk, opening and shutting it, and returned to Sam's side with their regular duffel bags of weapons and clothes.

"Alright," he announced to the surprise of both listeners, "she comes inside." And with that, he turned and started walking through the parking lot toward the motel.

Sam didn't bother to hide his lack of understanding for Dean's sudden change of heart.

"Wait -Dean!" he called to his brother's retreating back, "What if she's possessed-?" The older sibling didn't even bother to turn around.

"She's not possessed. Trust me."

Sam waited in vain for further explanation, then turned to look at Anna who merely returned his expression, eyebrows raised, and shrugged.

"I'm not," she reaffirmed. Sam thought for a moment. 'Trust me,' Dean had said.

Sam did.

Dean dropped the bags onto one of the two single-sized beds, noting the sound of squeaking metal as the old frame took on the weight of apparel and weaponry. _Great_, he groaned inwardly, _every time Sam turns over tonight_...

The room wasn't much different from any other they'd stayed in. The door opened into a small entryway, with a half-divider and a single step down into the sleeping area. The two beds were against the easternmost wall, the one furthest from the door situated right beside the corner door to the probably tiny bathroom. In the opposite corner was a thin but tall chest of drawers, and next to it a large window above a small, rickety looking table and two chairs.

It had just occurred to Dean that this Anna chick might end up here for most of the night answering their questions, and that he would therefore not be getting much sleep. He'd probably end up driving her home, too. He was grumpily working up a few choice words at the thought when the girl herself entered the room through the open doorway, closely followed by Sam who closed the door behind him. Anna looked tired but not unhappy - she almost seemed pleased to be in the motel room. She couldn't have been older than 21, an observation that Dean involuntarily made - and had to struggle to ignore. Those hip-hugging, red pajama pants and little black tank top were eye-catching to say the least, not to mention her long dark hair and full figure. The older Winchester shook himself mentally and had to force his 'get the girl' reflexes to the back of his mind - for now, at least.

He was all business and no nonsense when he turned to speak to her.

"Well, I'd make introductions but since you seem to already know who we are, maybe you could explain why. How do you know about Meg? What did you mean about seeing us in your dreams?"

Sam was giving his older brother that look that meant he thought Dean was being insensitive and tactless.

"What Dean means is," Sam interjected, offering Anna a seat in one of the chairs which she gratefully, and gracefully, took, " we don't recall having met you before, yet you seem to know quite a bit about us." Dean noticed that the girl seemed totally unsurprised by the brothers' concern, almost as if she had expected this from the start.

"Why don't you start from the beginning," Sam continued, sitting opposite her, " how did you end up in that house?"

The two hunters watched with bated breath as Anna inhaled deeply and began her explanation. It was weird - even for Dean.

It was weird - even for Sam.

"I'm honestly not sure why I'm here, but _how_ I'm here is really pretty simple to understand. I'm dreaming."

There was an awkward pause followed by a snort from the eldest Winchester, while the younger's eyes widened with realization. Suddenly, Sam understood the reason for Anna's calm disposition and unworried manner - she was really fooling herself into believing that none of this was real. The younger brother's brow furrowed as he tried to understand just why she was in such deep denial..._What is it that she is refusing to admit to herself? _he wondered silently,_ What are you so unwilling to accept, Anna?_

She seemed to read his mind.

"No, really," the girl insisted, "Okay, it' what - ten o'clock right now?" She waited for the brothers' nods of affirmation. "I went to sleep in my own bed in Riverside, California at 9:30. And I woke up almost half an hour ago here in-" she paused, looking around as if for some indication of location. "Um, where are we?"

"Ohio."

"Oh." She blinked a few times, but even the news that she had somehow traveled twenty-three hundred miles in her sleep didn't seem to throw Anna off.

"Well, it's not important anyway," she went on, though with slightly less confidence, "This is just another _very_ detailed dream about Sam and Dean Winchester. I mean, you don't _exist_. So I've got nothing to worry about."

The boys took a few moments to stare after the girl had finished rambling. Sam turned to meet his older brother's gaze.

"Well," Dean stood and strode to the bed with his bag, taking out his guns and beginning to wipe them down one by one with a rag from the pocket of his duffel. He turned his head to send a sarcastic grin his sibling's way, "At least we know she's not buckets of crazy."

The younger hunter chose to ignore that particular remark, and leaned forward as he kindly questioned the girl before him.

"Anna, what makes you so certain that this is just a dream? That_ we_," he gestured to Dean and himself, "are just part of your imagination?"

Her face adopted an 'it only makes sense' expression as she replied.

"Because you're _not real_. Believe me, I know - I checked!" When Sam continued to look confused, Anna kept talking, explaining; speaking rapidly and getting louder as she went on, eyes moving around as she steadily became more insistent. "I've been dreaming about you guys for, like, a year. It's been this on-going thing; two, three times a week, every other night something new - the next monster, another story, a different _motel_! And you know what? I found _every single one_ online. Stupid wendigos, and, and - and demons?! They don't exist! It's all just myth and legend, and I probably just heard the names somewhere randomly and my subconscious decided to reassert those memories while I slept. And you know, I just kept having the dreams - even started to like them. I actually _liked_ seeing you guys every couple of nights." She laughed haplessly, "I wanted to know what would happen next - I cared. It was like this continuous...I don't even know! But usually people don't have dreams like that! And then the headaches started; every night that I had a dream my head would hurt for hours _and it sucked_. And I googled your names," the brothers exchanged a look for the umpteenth time is as many minutes, "Yeah - there's no such family as you Winchesters. There's never been a John or Mary, or Sam, or Dean! In fact," the heavy skepticism in her voice became even more pronounced, as did the utter perplexity in the boys' expressions, "the only thing that came up was a link to some stupid tv show on the CW with characters by the same names. I didn't even bother to check _that_ out. I mean, _c'mon_."

Her monologue was only met with a look of sympathy from Sam, whose face was wearing an 'I really hate to break it to you' expression. Dean wasn't even looking at her, but was suddenly very interested in his gun-polishing.

Sam didn't even know how to begin to reply. So Anna had been dreaming about them for ages and developed headaches, only to find herself joining them for real and unable to accept it. _But how...?_ Sam wondered inwardly.

Anna's eyes seemed to be pleading with the two hunters now, asking them to agree with her reasoning and let her just wake up. The youngest hunter saw wetness cloud her vision when no such affirmation was offered, and he watched as her resolve crumbled into so many tears.

"I'm not crazy," she whispered more to herself than anyone else, "You don't exist. This is just a dream...please..." The tears were flowing freely now, but without hysteria or sobs to accompany them. Anna closed her eyes and bowed her head, defeated. Sam did his best to look comforting, moving closer and kneeling beside her, reaching over and putting his hand on her shoulder. He still had a hundred questions in his mind, but he could see that the dark-haired girl before him needed a moment. The boys hadn't need to say anything, not that they would have known what to say anyway. She had talked herself into silence and out of denial.

Wiping her face with her hands, Anna sniffed once and breathed out. She turned to face Sam.

"It's all real. Everything?"

The younger brother met her gaze uncertainly, but with a small smile.

"Well, that depends," he admitted, " What exactly do you mean by 'everything'?"

Anna wiped her eyes yet again. She knew she had a lot of explaining to do, and crying because she was confused wasn't going to help much. She stole a glance at Dean before she began. She had noticed that the older hunter's eyes had been averted ever since her tears had started, and she suddenly felt ashamed.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Dean had begun to feel incredibly awkward when Anna had announced her speculations that she was merely dreaming, but he wasn't about to let Sammy or the girl know that. He had stood up, turning to his wide-eyed brother and flashing a sarcastic grin.

"Well," he'd made the remark easily, masking the tangle of what was he was really feeling, "at least we know she's not buckets of crazy." The older Winchester had then reverted to his usual ritual of wiping down his various fire-arms, forcing a facade of calm and disinterest as he really listened intently to Anna's following diatribe.

The tv show thing was kinda funny. _Yeah, _he thought sarcastically, _like anyone would watch a show about us..._

As she spoke, some unfamiliar sentience was pulling at him, but he couldn't quite place a name for it; it was a mixture of pity, guilt, and maybe a bit of fear and frustration. He pitied the dark-haired girl because she was obviously caught up in something that was just too much for her to handle, and it actually made Dean feel bad for her. He felt some measure of guilt, not because he thought that Sam or himself had caused whatever was going on, but because the root of everything this was about; dreams, headaches, demons...it was supposed to be his family's problem and nobody else's - Anna shouldn't have to be dragged into this impending war, and he sensed that was exactly what was about to happen. _Another normal existence interrupted_, he thought. The frustration was understandable; naturally he was sick and tired of not knowing what the demon was planning, or exactly how people with visions or dreams fit in to the plot. He just wanted to kill the thing already. But the fear? Why was he suddenly afraid for the girl? The hunter certainly didn't scare easy, but the sheer oddness of her appearance, and the fact that she was fighting so hard against accepting that wendigos, demons, and other supernatural forces existed - It scared him. What would happen to her? Would they go and leave her with a warning to be careful and a phone number just in case? Like that would help. Shouldn't they keep an eye on her? _I'm sick of doing nothing, of ditching every person who's like Sam and leaving them without protection, without answers..._

Dean's silent self-examination was interrupted by the awful realization that Anna was crying. He did his best not to look over at her. Some how he felt like an intruder into what should have been a private ordeal. Her unwilling yet unstoppable realization only made the older brother feel worse about the whole situation.

He felt her gaze on his averted face before she began to explain the extent of her knowledge about them, and he knew those eyes that were looking at him were probably full of tears and defeat. He suddenly felt ashamed.

Anna stilled herself, shuddering inwardly as she realized that what she was about to say would change everything for the boys. She began.

"The first time I ever...dreamed about you guys, it started at your old house, I guess,- when you still lived in Lawrence? Everyone was saying goodnight to baby Sam, and then...um, your mom woke up in the middle of the night ..."

She told them everything, every detail.

And it hurt her to see the pain in the brother's faces.

Sam thought he might cry. Or scream. Neither made him feel very manly or in control. He listened in painful silence as Anna quietly relayed every dream she had ever had about the two brothers. He experienced an array of emotions, sensations; each memory was opened up afresh, and he almost felt as if he were reliving the past 18 months. When Anna talked about Jessica, the memory ripped at him like so many claws, yet he could clearly see the gentility and consideration with which the girl handled the subject - and he was grateful. His hurt moved to the recesses of his emotional span, however, as he began to marvel at the clarity of Anna's dreams, and the detail in which she remembered them. They seemed to record every minute of every relevant thing that had happened to the Winchester brothers, and it was somewhat surreal to hear her actually _quote_ their past conversations, many of them word for word. She even revealed things that the two hunters hadn't seen themselves - back-stories and little insights about one sibling that the other had never known.

When it came time to tell of the days at the hospital, when Dean had miraculously been healed and their father had been found dead, she stopped. She seemed hesitant, like she didn't want to reveal what she knew.

Sam watched, uncomprehending, as the girl lifted her focus to Dean. The older brother turned to look at her, expressionless, but somehow communicating something to her with his eyes in an unspoken language that even Sam couldn't decipher. Anna seemed to understand, however, and she turned back to stare at the table, continuing just as she had before, not leaving out one detail.

And Sam did cry.

_Dad...no..._

Head in his hands, he pretty much remained in the same position until Anna finished her retelling, leaving off with their last hunt, occurring just seven days ago. She mentioned that the dreams had been joined by headaches for almost a month now - twenty-two days if she was being exact.

Then all was quiet.

No one moved.

The silence that followed was heavy, but not awkward or wrong-feeling.

Nobody wanted much to speak anymore.

Dean had listened with growing dread as Anna's description of his _life_ had begun.

He pretty much hated it, really.

He hated when she made him relive mom's death. He hated when she made him remember how lost he had been during the search for Dad. He hated when her retelling made him regret all of his little mistakes and angry words. He hated when he could feel the agony emanating from Sammy. He hated all the little insights she revealed, and how inadequate he felt when he knew he would never have known those things without her.

Yeah - he pretty much hated it.

When Anna had come to the part where Cassie entered the picture, the older brother had stiffened, not sure whether he wanted to know what this girl knew about _that_. He couldn't describe his gratefulness when Anna had glazed over the finer details of Dean's endeavors with Cassie, merely mentioning that Dean had spent the night at her house. Still, the hunter's face reddened when he stole a quick glance in the narrator's direction and saw how blushing her face was. She obviously knew more than she was telling about that particular event.

At least Sam hadn't noticed their flushed cheeks.

And Dean hated Anna's voice just a little bit less.

The memories continued to come as she continued; some funny, some bittersweet, others hard to take. Of course, the whole 'quoting their conversations' thing was freaky, but for the most part, he was beginning to get used to the fact that this girl had been a fly on the wall to everything the boys had done in the past eighteen months.

Key word: was.

When it came time to tell of the days at the hospital, when Dean had miraculously been healed and their father had been found dead, Anna stopped talking. And the older Winchester stopped breathing. His heart had been steadily speeding up as she had described his encounter with the reaper, and his Dad's suspicious actions. Somehow, Dean knew what was coming. He had never been sure, but he'd always believed it had been his fault entirely that his Dad had died. Miraculous unexplainable healings just didn't coincide with sudden unexplainable deaths. He turned, expertly masking the mass of unshed tears and unspoken fears that threatened so very much to burst from his usually strong and controlled person. Expressionless in every aspect save for his eyes, his gaze met Anna Walker's. A silent message was communicated.

He knew she was telling him first. He appreciated it.

He knew she was asking his permission to say it aloud. He gave it.

He knew he would never be grateful to anyone more than he was to her now. He silently told her so.

He knew she understood.

Their mutual gazes broke apart, and Dean continued to clean his prized guns as Anna relayed the series of events that took place that day at the hospital to Sammy.

Dean knew his younger brother would cry.

"...so you guys got into the Impala, and drove away. And that's it."

Anna fell silent, leaving off with her last dream. She had been talking for over an hour. The digital clock on the bedside table read 11:17. There was a hole in the worn carpet about a foot away from where she was sitting. She stared at it, examining the shape, and guessing how long it had taken to form. Anything but look into the faces of the brothers. She knew Sam's shed tears were dry now, and that each of Deans's guns had been thoroughly wiped down four times over. She had noticed the older brother move on to shuffle through the contents of a small box of what appeared to be fine silverware, selecting a spoon, a fork, another spoon. Now he sat still, utensils in hand, waiting for the mood of the room to abate before he continued whatever task he was prepared for.

Sam resigned himself to the fact that someone was going to have to break the silence. He unhappily volunteered. He inhaled slowly and deeply, letting his breath out and sitting up in his chair.

"So tonight...?"

The unspoken question was directed at Anna, and she returned his gaze with uncertain eyes.

"I had another headache, so I went to bed. I said goodnight to my baby brother and went to sleep."

Sam nodded, then was slightly startled when Dean unexpectedly entered the conversation, looking at Anna with something equivalent to new understanding.

"What did you say to him?" Again, the question was directed to the girl, but this time Anna didn't seem to understand it. She too looked surprised at Dean's sudden vocalization.

"Wh-what?" She inquired of the older hunter.

"Your baby brother, what exactly did you say to him before you went to bed?" he looked at her as if expecting a certain reply.

Sam could feel his own face adopting a look of comprehension as he began to understand his sibling's reasoning. He too looked to Anna as she responded.

"Um, I asked him 'what was that', because I thought I'd heard him tell me to turn left or something like that, then Josh - that's his name - asked me what I was talking about, and I told him 'never mind, I'm just tired'. I figured I was just hearing things. He said okay, goodnight, and that he loved me. So I said 'Love you, baby brother' and went to bed. He's actually not a baby," she added as the Winchesters exchanged a look full of meaning, "he's, like, nine. I just call him that..."

Her answer drifted off and she watched them, obviously not understanding why it mattered what she had said to her sibling.

"See, man, I told you I didn't say it!" Dean seemed very much in control of himself again, and Sam was looking thoughtful.

The younger sibling turned back to the dark-haired girl. Now it was his turn to explain.

"So I heard you giving Dean directions and you heard me saying goodnight to Josh?" Anna repeated the newly shared conclusions to make sure she had heard correctly, and she was met with a nod and a shrug from the brothers.

"Seems like it," Sam answered her from behind his laptop, which he had whipped out faster than Anna would have thought possible. She raised an eyebrow as the youngest sibling searched for information.

"How the heck does that work?" Anna wondered aloud. She was glad that the morose feeling had left the room, but the perplexity that had replaced it was kind of annoying.

"I would say it's just some freaky psychic party line, but that doesn't explain how a totally non-freak like _me_ heard you." Dean offered his humor from beside the bedside table, behind a mini-blowtorch and several molding trays - he was busy melting the silverware, which was in fact real silver, into bullets. "And," he looked up from the liquid metal to look at the girl over by the laptop, " it doesn't tell us how you somehow jumped two thousand miles, 'cuz I gotta tell you, even your legs aren't _that_ good."

Anna smirked as the older hunter turned back to his makeshift metallurgy. She was glad to see Dean had his good mood firmly in place, and more than pleased to see his 'get the girl' reflexes were in working order. She did her best not to let on how much she was working to keep her own 'get the guy' instincts in check.

Her musings were interrupted by an awkward sounding Sam, who seemed like he was embarrassed to have to say what he was about to say to Anna.

"Um, listen - we can take you back home as soon as we get rid of the thing back at the house on Silk Oak. We just need shoot to him up with a dose of silver rounds, and then we can be on our way tomorrow."

Anna vaguely wondered what Sam was meaning - then it clicked.

"Oh, yeah," she answered as she understood, "Yeah, do whatever you need to. Thanks, too; Cali's a ways away from Ohio. I guess it'll be plenty of time to figure out what happened."

Sam looked grateful that she had accepted his awkward, formal invitation to stay with them so easily. It was obvious he was a bit wary about adding a third party, much less a female one.

After about twenty minutes of spilling info about herself for Sam to add to his research, Anna stood up and strode over to the bathroom door, turning to answer both boys' new questioning expressions with a smile.

"I'm just taking a shower. I may have to sleep in the same clothes, but at least I'll feel clean. Don't worry," she assured them none too innocently as she opened the door and stepped inside, allowing her smile to widen as the boys fought their natural thought processes at the mention of a girl in their shower, "I'll save you some hot water." And with that, she closed the door, not bothering to stifle her giggle, no doubt leaving the boys to flip a coin over who would get the second bed now that the girl was obviously getting a bed of her own.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Anna hadn't closed the door for three seconds before Dean had let out an approving whistle and motioned to Sam for a coin flip to decide who got the last bed.

Dean groaned aloud as the first toss came heads. _No! Tales, tales, tales!_ They were going for best two out of three and so far Sam had one up on the older hunter. Dean flipped the 1986 quarter a second time and begged for Washington to take a nose dive. _Yes!_ The coin landed tales, and now it was Sammy's turn to groan. The last toss also came out in the older sibling's favor and he smirked triumphantly as Sam resigned himself to the fact that he would be on the floor when they finally got to sleep tonight.

"Man, I _so_ call the next shower," Dean had remarked suggestively to his younger sibling as he pocketed the winning quarter and looked toward the door of the in-use bathroom before returning to the silverwork.

"Upstairs brain, Dean," Sam reminded him, "we may be in a motel, but this is _not_ the time. Besides," he added as he looked up directions to Anna house on the laptop, "for all you know she might already be taken." Dean frowned in annoyance at his brother's display of common sense.

"Sam, you're a real killjoy you know that?"

"What in the world?" Sam shot back. Dean rolled his eyes at the response.

"Please, don't act like you don't know it, just 'cuz-"

"No - Dean," Sam gestured to the screen of his computer, "She's not here."

Dean looked up from his metal work to gaze uncomprehending at the other Winchester.

"Come again?"

"Anna - she's not here. She's not_ anywhere_."

The eldest brother stood and went to look at the screen and see whatever it was that Sam was talking about.

"Look," Sam pulled up page after page of community college enrollment and real estate lists, "she's not listed anywhere in the student registry of RCC, and her address doesn't even show up on Riverside's residential charts. Apparently, the Banned store she works at doesn't have record of employing anyone by the name of 'Anna' ever." He paused, clearly confused, "Dean, I can't find hospital records, DMV, birth certificate - I can hack anything, man, and there's nothing here. I can't find one speck on an Anna Walker." He tilted his head, pondering something, "It's almost...almost as if-"

"As if she doesn't exist." Dean finished Sam's sentence with just as much confusion in his voice as was in his brother's. The youngest sibling was still staring thoughtfully at the computer screen. Dean watched as an idea slowly formed on Sammy's face.

"What?" Dean inquired as the younger Winchester cleared every page away, pulling up a new window and going to "google .com". Sam's eyes remained on his laptop as he filled the sandy-haired hunter in on his thoughts.

"Anna said that she googled our names and nothing came up except some stupid tv show."

"Yeah, so?"

"Well, right now I did the same and it just so happens that there's no such tv show. In fact, there's about forty hits from when the shapeshifters in St. Louis and at that bank were mistaken for you. Nothing besides." Sam paused, turning the computer towards the elder to show the proof, and allowing that lovely piece of information to sink into his brother's mind. Dean let out an angry breath through his nose.

"So she was lying?" he asked quietly. He watched as Sam frowned, shaking his head and typing rapidly while answering.

"No, I don't think so. I think she was telling the truth. I just think that we don't actually exist in her truth, and she truthfully doesn't exist for us." He stopped typing and turned to meet Dean's incredulous expression before continuing, the younger's eyes wide with a realization that the older wasn't identifying with, "I think the truth in her dimension is different from the truth in ours."

After eighteen and a half minutes under the hot stream of running water, Anna twisted the knob to turn the shower off, dried herself and got dressed in the still steamy bathroom. She folded the towels she had used and checked her self in the half-fogged mirror before leaving the room. Her still wet hair fell freshly around her evenly proportioned face, accenting the brown of her eyes. She smiled, liking the effect of her black and red pajamas against her evenly tanned skin.

She turned and opened the door, stepping into the motel room that seemed chilly after the warmth of the steamy bathroom. Her entrance was met by the stares of both Winchesters and from the way they both had the same look on their faces, she sensed that the boys knew something she didn't.

"Um, did I miss something?"she asked.

Sam hadn't even noticed when the sound of the shower's running water had ended, and it very nearly came to him as a surprise to find the bathroom door opening to reveal the pretty girl with still wet hair. She looked so _clean,_ despite the fact that she was wearing the same clothes, and it registered in his mind that she must have been dirty before from laying on the floor in that old house - he'd just never noticed. He vaguely wondered whether he himself was dirty and was contemplating the fact that even the stale motel shampoo smelled better on her than it ever had on him or Dean when she asked a question he _so_ was not ready to answer adequately.

"Um, did I miss something?" she asked.

Sam's mouth opened once, then closed, unsure how to respond to Anna's question. Dean, however, wasted no time making a quip to Sam at the current situation, although he wisely kept his sarcasm to a quiet mutter.

"How about being born?"came Dean's reply.

Sam did his best not to acknowledge his brother's murmuring as he beckoned for Anna to join them. She sat once again, rather slowly, looking like she really didn't feel like hearing what she thought was bound to be bad news. Sam did his best to sound confident while he explained his theory - he hoped it would go over better with Anna than it had with Dean.

Anna refused to believe it. Dream-vision-thingies? Okay. Unconscious teleportation? Fine. Monsters and demons and _really_ hot Winchester brothers? She could deal with it. But this was just too damn much. Her denial from before returned in full force, and this time she wasn't going to back down. She didn't even realize she was suddenly standing again as a dangerous mixture of anger, exhaustion, and utter perplexity pushed aside every thing she had agreed to accept as reality in the past hour. Her panic was palpable as she involuntarily raised her voice with each insistent phrase.

"What do you mean _I don't exist_?!"

It wasn't going as well as Sam had hoped. He realized that what he was proposing sounded ludicrous, insulting even. He knew his explanation wasn't coming out very articulately; it had been pretty darn stupid to start with, "We can't take you home because you're from another dimension; you don't exist." It wasn't all that tactful or even sensible. Nevertheless, he tried to make up for his beginning blunder.

Anna of course, was having none of it.

"What do you mean _I don't exist_?!" she demanded.

Sam mentally kicked himself for not thinking before speaking, and meanwhile Dean winced behind him.

"I mean, you don't exist _here_!"_ Oh yeah, that's better, _Sam thought.

"You're crazy - I'm standing right here!"

"But you're not_ real_." _Oh man, why am I being an idiot now? Why?_

"Are you insane?!"

"Both of you SHUTUP!" Dean's sudden addition to the shouting quieted all, but he seemed as upset and disbelieving as Anna was at the moment. Still, he gave the girl a look that clearly said to keep quiet for the time being. He then turned to his brother, impatience and frustration written all over his facial features.

"Sam, if you have a good reason for this freaky idea then you better explain yourself_ now_ because you haven't made a lick of sense since you started talking, man."

Sam sighed - he knew he sounded ridiculous. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them, turning back to his laptop, typing rapidly and speaking at the same time. The fact that he wasn't looking at either of the two listeners was not by accident.

"Look, demons are spiritual beings with the capacity and capability to alternate between dimensions. They can travel between emotional, mental, and physical dimensions; that's how you get possession, invisibility, stuff like that. They can pass through time and space. So..."Sam took the chance of stealing a glance at Anna, and was less than thrilled to see her wide-eyed look of incredulity and blind panic, something that she seemed to have in her eyes a lot lately, "So I think that since you've obviously had some sort of connection with us, then you were connected to the demon as well - yes,_ the_ demon," he added, when Dean made a slight motion as if to say 'Holy crap.' Sam's eyes absorbed the new information he had just brought up on the laptop's screen, confirming and reaffirming his argument. He knew he was right, and he continued.

"Anna, there are no medical records, legal documents, report cards - nothing that says you ever lived where you do. You don't even have a birth certificate. No one lives at your address, no 'Anna' works at your job, and nobody knows you're missing _because you aren't_. I think that you were somehow dragged from a dimension where we - me and Dean, aren't real; just dreams, like you said. But here...here..." Sam looked into Anna's dread filled, disbelieving eyes, and knew that she was not taking this well. The next part was simply not going to gain a good response.

Sam resigned himself to the fact that there would be some more denial from Anna and more than a little effort-to-convince from himself before the night came to a close. He held Anna's gaze unflinchingly, even as he spoke world-shattering words with his most soothing and comforting tone.

"Anna, you don't exist here. You were never born, you never lived - you're just not anything. That's the truth."

It seemed like this night was lasting for stinkin' forever.

Anna knew she was panicking. She could feel the blood rushing, hear her heart pounding in her ears. Honestly, she wasn't quite sure why she was reacting this way. Considering the circumstances of the night so far, one would think that she'd be ready to believe just about anything. Heck, if demons and all that junk were real, then why couldn't she be from another dimension, an alternate world or something like that? But the truth was, Anna wasn't terrified about not 'existing'. Anna wasn't scared to death of the idea of unconsciously latching onto a demonic force. She wasn't even really bothered by the prospect of not having a home to go back to; at the moment she was in pretty darn good company. No, the thought that horrified Anna Walker beyond all comprehension, the thing that freaked her out of her wits was that if_ she_ wasn't real here, then maybe neither was her mom, her dad, her grandma, ..._or even_ _Josh_. _Josh! Oh no, Josh..._

If no one lived at her house, if there was no house at that address then maybe he was... _Oh my...no, NO!_ Not her baby brother. He _had_ to be here. He was fine. He had to be alive. She cringed inwardly at the thought of her baby brother not ever being born. If he'd never been born, then he wasn't ever alive, and not being alive technically counted as being dead.

No matter how little sense that made, it still shook Anna to the core, and she pretty much lost it then. _You can't tell me...don't you dare tell me my little brother isn't alive - I don't care where we are! You can't say he doesn't exist! _Her denials were screaming inside her head as out loud she couldn't find the words to express what was upsetting her so much. Sam was looking at her sympathetically, but Anna didn't want sympathy, she wanted desperately to prove that she was right and that the Winchesters simply had to take her home and she could pretend that none of this had ever happened. She knew her anger would show even through pleading eyes. Josh had to exist, because if he didn't...her eyes widened as a new revelation washed over her already shocked system. _Oh no._ If he didn't exist, them maybe nobody existed. _Oh no, no!_ What if none of them; the people she cared about, the people she loved, her family, friends - what if none of them were here? _Ariana, Lisette, Bryan .._. Her eyes closed suddenly, and she fought back the sudden urge to let loose the waterfall that was threatening to stream from her eyes.

Bryan. Her best friend. Her everything. Her...fill in the blank. _Oh no, not Bryan._ There was no way in heaven, hell, or any other stupid _dimension_ that Bryan wasn't alive. Bryan couldn't just not be - Bryan had to exist. Anna needed Bryan to be ok. She couldn't live without her best friend.

Anna opened her eyes and looked fully into the faces of the others in the room with her. Sam had been waiting for her to say something for only about twenty seconds, but he was no doubt feeling a little intrusive at witnessing the many levels of emotion and expression that had flown over her face in that time. Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed nearest the desk with the laptop, elbows propped on knees and hands cupped around each other under his stubbly chin. He looked like he really wasn't liking where this whole thing was headed, and his furrowed brow said that he was having a bit of a hard time not only following his brother, but understanding how Sam seemed to be the walking encyclopedia of weird things.

It struck Anna as odd that she had just gone through such an immense amount of thought and such a wealth of emotion in the space of thirty seconds.

It struck Sam as amazing that anyone could go through such a wealth of emotions in the space of thirty seconds. He had finished his rather lame speech of explanation as best he could, and he fell quiet, waiting for, and possibly dreading, a response.

Half a minute had passed in tense silence.

He had watched as anger, fear, revelation, then determination passed over Anna's features. Now, he braced himself for whatever was coming as Anna opened her mouth to speak.

"You're wrong. I'll prove it."

Dean had watched with growing perplexity as Sam had delivered his discourse. The older hunter was caught between wondering exactly how the heck did Sammy come up with this stuff and wondering how the heck did someone as seemingly normal as Anna get mixed up in it, when Sam mentioned the demon - yes, _the_ demon. _Holy crap,_ he thought.

Needless to say, he paid a just a bit closer attention from then on.

As Sam ended his assertion that Anna didn't exist, _Geez, great choice of words Sammy; so much for being the tactful one,_ Dean was eyeing the dark-haired girl and waiting for the tirade that was certain to break loose. He was surprised when, after about half a minute of the loudest silence he'd ever experienced, Anna simply looked at them with alert, albeit watery, eyes and spoke at quite a normal volume, though slightly less than calm.

"You're wrong," she stated firmly to Sam as Dean raised an eyebrow, "I'll prove it."

Even in his thoughts Dean's sarcasm was apparent, _Well, this just keeps getting better and better... _

Anna stepped closer to the younger Winchester, hand outstretched.

"Let me see your phone." Sam balked at her, obviously having not expected her to say that of all things.

"What?" he sounded just as surprised as he looked. Anna didn't have much patience for surprise however, and her control was quickly abating.

"Look, I'm going to prove to you that you're wrong, that I'm real and alive and not from some alternate dimension! I'm going to make a call and you'll see, now let me have the dang phone PLEASE!" She watched furiously as Sam's mouth opened to no doubt insist that he 'was to' right, and the readied herself for an argument, but Dean intervened before his brother could say a word of protest.

"Hey, she said please." Dean was looking at Sam and shrugging.

Anna almost smiled. _I knew I always liked Dean..._

She gave Sam a look that let him know just how thin her patience was wearing, and she snatched the phone as soon as he pulled it out of his pocket.

Taking a second to picture the number she wanted to call, she proceeded to dial incredibly fast, the memory of where her fingers should go coming quickly and naturally as she called the most familiar number she knew, the person she knew would proclaim her existence to the world's end, the one whom she trusted beyond anyone else, the single most important person in her life after her brother: Bryan.

She knew Sam and Dean were watching with bated breath and creeping apprehension as the rings began.

Sam watched with bated breath as Anna dialed, fearing just momentarily that he was wrong about his little theory, and then desperately wishing that he was.

Dean watched with creeping apprehension as Anna called whoever she was calling, fearing that she wasn't going to like what she heard if Sam was right, wanting her to prove Sammy's theory wrong, and secretly, fervently hoping that the person she was dialing was _not_ a boyfriend.

Anna waited.

The first ring ended, shrill and distant as she pressed the cell phone's tiny speaker against her ear, willing Bryan to answer on the other end. _Pick up, pick up, pick, up, please pick up!_

The second ring ended and Anna shut her eyes tight, trying and failing to keep her frightened tears from breaching their barriers.

The third ring began.

The third ring ended.

Then someone picked up.

Anna opened her eyes, the tears stopping momentarily as she heard the background sounds of people; people talking, laughing. A laugh that she recognized, a laugh that became a voice as words were spoken that washed away the fear and confusion of the nights events.

"Hello?" Bryan's voice came through the phone. Anna gave a small sigh of relief, and forgot to look triumphantly at Sam, instead just looking happy.

"Bryan."

"Uh, yeah, what's up?" There was something that prickled at Anna's ears, something subtly different about his tone, something she didn't recognize. She couldn't quite place the thought that Bryan's tone conveyed...and that scared her again.

She should know - nothing about Bryan should be unfamiliar to her.

"Bryan, it's Anna!" She knew she hadn't needed to say it, but she always did, "Oh my gosh, you'll never believe-"

"Who?"

Everything froze.

Suddenly Anna's mind was racing at a mile a minute. She hadn't recognized what was different about Bryan's voice because she'd never heard that tone in his voice before. She hadn't known what sounded strange because he'd never spoken to her like that.

The difference in Bryan's voice was uncertainty, unfamiliarity.

He didn't know who she was.

He didn't remember her.

_NO!_

"It's Anna, Bryan. Anna!" she paused, her breathing coming faster, feeling as if she might start hyperventilating, "Bryan?!" His response came and he sounded a little wary - again something she'd never heard in his voice before when he was speaking to her.

"Uh, I'm sorry, I don't...I don't know any Anna..."

Anna didn't respond, didn't even cry anymore. She merely dropped the phone and stepped back, sliding down against the wall across from the brothers, who had both averted their eyes. Her denial was gone, her anger burnt out, and all she could do was hope that Sam had an idea; a way to get her back home, a way she could get back to her brother and her best friend.

A way that she could travel back through the dimensions.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

To sum it up, Dean was pretty bummed.

The digital clock on the little table between the two beds read 12:39, and all occupants in the room had agreed to turn in. Anna had seemed...well, pretty much totally devastated to find that Sam was indeed right in his dimension-travel theory. After the relatively short phone call, Sam had reassured her as best he could while Dean had watched the pajama-clad girl with still wet hair not pay attention to a word the younger Winchester said.

Hence the first reason for Dean's bummed-ness. He guessed that it must pretty much suck to wake up on the opposite side of the country from where you had fallen asleep, meet two figments of your imagination, be told that monsters and demon exist, be told you _don't_ exist, then have it proved to you that you don't exist, all in the space of about three hours. Not to mention the fact that no one really had an idea of how to get things back to normal. He couldn't help feeling bad for Anna.

So basically, it didn't surprise Dean in the slightest that Anna wasn't paying very close attention to Sams insisting that they would figure this all out tomorrow, that they would just go to sleep tonight, finish the job that the brothers had come to do, then get straight to work on getting Anna back home. Dean figured that Anna's thought were swirling only with those who had ceased to remember her, people like this Bryan guy she had called.

Which in itself sucked on a whole different level.

As soon as he had heard Anna speak the guy's name, _Ugh, c'mon! Bryan? Man... _he had automatically assumed that whatever chances he had were screwed. _Dangit!_ he thought, _and I was…what about…ugh, so not fair!_ And judging from the girl's horror at not being remembered by him, this Bryan guy must be pretty important to her. Man, I hate it when Sammy's right. So that sorta bummed the older hunter a bit too.

All in all, it was with a slight frown that Dean turned out the light, seeing Anna in the bed three feet to his right, and Sam on the floor at the foot of his bed.

When Dean awoke, it was to the sound of shifting sheets.

And screams.

It wasn't that she was mad at them.

Anna really wasn't mad at Sam or Dean. She didn't hold it against them that she had woken up on the other side of the country from where she had fallen asleep, been told that monsters and demons exist, been told that she _didn't_ exist, then had it proved to her that she didn't exist, all in the space of about three hours.

But she still thought she had a right to be a bit bummed out.

So she hadn't paid much attention to Sam's half-confident assurances. And she hadn't minded that they were finally turning in for the night. She just wanted to go to bed. She was just so tired. If she got some sleep, maybe she would feel better in the morning, or even enjoy her time here with these guys.

Maybe she could have some fun with Dean_…oh, yeah,_ she thought lamely, _and Sam too, I guess..._

She had watched Sam turn off his computer, offer her his bed, and borrow a blanket to use while he slept on the floor. She had watched Dean leave to put the now half full box of silverware back into the Impala, returning with salt to place around the windows and doors.

As she crawled into the bed she was so tired that she just ignored the growing feeling in the pit of her stomach. She tried not to think about her brother or friends. She tried not to feel bad that Sam had to sleep on the ground.

And she barely even noticed the headache that was starting in the back of her head.

The light was off, the doors were locked, the windows salted, and there was a gun, knife, and flask of holy water beside him on the floor. Yup, everything seemed pretty normal.

Sam lay on the floor, eyes adjusting to the darkness, listening to the unfamiliar sound of someone other than Dean breathing slowly and steadily in the room. _Anna must have been tired._ Dean too, judging from the slight snore that Sam knew all too well. Sam closed his eyes, trying to drift off. Trying and failing. The floor wasn't so bad, but for some reason he wasn't feeling comfortable. Something was bugging him. What was it? He shifted positions. _No, that's not it._ He pulled the thin motel blanket tighter around him. _Ah, there it is._ He was cold. Not freezing or anything, but enough that he wasn't comfortable. _Should've gotten extra blankets. Man…_Sam glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table above him.

12:57.

With an almost inaudible sigh, Sam rose stealthily from the floor, pushing aside his blanket, and quietly going to the motel room's door. _I'll just go ask for some more blankets from the front desk. It won't take two minutes…_Sam grabbed a pistol and opened the door, slowly, careful not to wake his brother or their guest. He looked back once, making sure they were still sleeping, then he stepped into the quiet night and made his way across the parking lot to the neon-lit front office, determined to get some more blankets and be warm.

He didn't realize just how tired he was, because had he been a little more awake, he might have noticed that the quiet night was too silent; unnaturally so. He might've registered the slight stench that was swirling around him, a smell of decay and dried blood. He might've been able to avoid being struck violently from behind, the impact making lights burst in his vision, his legs buckling and his body falling limply to the ground as he lost consciousness.

The last picture he saw was of two thin and blood-coated feet, with jagged, claw-like nails standing in front of his face. The last sound he heard was a guttural, yet thoroughly triumphant growl coming from somewhere above his ears. His last thought was that Dean was gonna chew him out later.

Sam's eyes lost the battle to stay open, and he saw, heard, and thought nothing more.

Two hours later, a scream sounded from the motel

room numbered 22.

Dean awoke, not remembering. In his groggy state, he vaguely wondered why he was waking, when it was obviously still dark. His ears registered the sounds of bed sheets rubbing against a mattress. He squinted in the dark, seeing Sam moving in the bed across from him. In the light from the window, Dean could almost see his brother's outline twisting and turning, recognizing the movements that meant one thing: nightmare.

"Great," Dean muttered as he tiredly but swiftly moved to the other bed, readying himself for the wake-Sam-up-and-calm-him-down routine.

He was halfway across the three feet between the beds when he remembered.

That twisting form was too small to be Sam. Those small whimpers were too feminine to be his younger brother.

Sam wasn't even in that bed. Sam was on the floor. Dean turned his head.

_Wait, why isn't Sam on the floor?_

Then Anna screamed. Dean nearly jumped. Nearly. He closed the distance between him and Anna, and tried to get a grip on her arms as she now flailed and thrashed, shouting all the while.

"NO, _please_! Don't, don't hurt him!"

"Anna! Hey, wake up, it's alright, _Anna_!" he found her wrists, holding them tightly, and leaning over her, "You're dreaming!"

"No! Help me! Help him! DEAN, HELP!"

"Anna, wake up!" Dean saw her eyes open and wildly look around her, frightened and then confused. He let a sigh escape him as she let her arms fall, her shoulders relaxing as she realized what must have happened. Her breathing was heavy and her face was sweaty, and Dean tried to be soothing as she continued to search the room for something.

"It's alright, you're fine. You were dreaming. Man…" He sat on the bed, ignoring the gnawing sensation in the back of his mind, "What-"

He didn't get to finish the question because Anna was franticly asking her own.

"Where's Sam?!" She gazed wide-eyed at Dean's face, and he knew his mouth was dropping open with a sickening revelation, "Dean, where is Sam!?!"

In that moment, Dean knew. He knew that Anna hadn't just been dreaming. He knew that Anna was indeed one of the 'special children'. He knew that she had just had a vision. He knew that it had scared the heck out of her.

And he knew that the vision had been about Sam.

The elder Winchester whirled around, searching the room for what he knew wasn't there. He saw the rumpled blankets on the floor, and processed that Sam's pistol was missing. He leaped off of the bed, reaching the door and yanking it open, yelling into the night.

"Sam! SAMMY!" When no response came, Dean rushed back into the room, slamming the door behind him and furiously slapping the light switch. He was pulling his jacket on as he spoke, perhaps louder than was necessary, to the still panicky girl.

"Where is he Anna?"

Anna's face paled, but she spoke quickly and clearly as she too jumped off of the bed, following Dean as he strode to the door.

"That house, the one I woke up in. That thing…"

Dean turned to face her, air leaving his lungs momentarily.

"Is…is he…?" his unspoken question hung in the air as he faced the girl, his peripheral vision picking up the fact that the clock next to the bed read 3:03.

Anna didn't answer, and the eldest brother felt sick as he took in Anna's expression.

Anna's right hand drummed her thigh restlessly as she willed the already speeding Impala to drive faster. Her left hand fingered her necklace, fumbling with the broken key that hung on it, serving as her most prized good luck charm.

She stole a worried glance at Dean. He looked as anxious as she was.

He hadn't wanted her to come, but there had been no time to argue. Sam was in trouble. Big time. The roads passed swiftly as Dean maneuvered the car through the empty land before him, and even as thoroughly freaked as she was, Anna couldn't help feeling a small sense of awe at the fact that it was really happening, she was really a freaky psychic person, and she really had crazy vision-thingies.

Of course, the horror he felt at the subject matter of those visions far outweighed any awe-factor.

Dean's voice broke into her thoughts.

"What is that?" She turned to face the Impala's driver, wondering what the question meant. His voice had been strained, like he was trying to feign calm but having a hard time of it.

"What?" she asked quickly, on edge and jumpy. Dean kept his voice natural, though Anna could see the grim expression on his face, and his hands gripping the steering wheel way too hard.

"That song. You were humming. What was it?" Anna looked at him blankly. She hadn't even realized she was humming, though she knew it was a nervous habit of hers. She knew she was blushing, if only slightly, as she faced forward again and answered.

"Oh. Um…I, I hum sometimes when I'm scared. 'He Is Legend, China White II.'" She looked back at Dean sheepishly, seeing a small smirk form on his face. He tilted his head a little and chuckled. Anna's brow furrowed. _What could possibly be funny…? _

"That's interesting," Dean commented, "I actually…well, I do the same thing. It calms me down. I start humming Me-"

"Metallica," Anna interrupted, watching the surprise on Dean's face as she finished his sentence, "That's right, I forgot." She remembered now, on the plane, Dean humming to calm his fear of flying. One of her dreams. One of his memories.

Then she immediately felt stupid for revealing her in-depth knowledge of the boys' lives once again.

Dean's brow was furrowed now, and they remained silent as they drove a further two minutes and twenty seconds, finally pulling up roughly beside the rundown house on the street called Silk Oak. She remained in the passenger seat as Dean exited the car and ran over to her side of the car, opening her door and squatting to her eye level.

She listened apprehensively as he spoke to her in a hurried tone, loading his gun at the same time.

Dean had chuckled at Anna's slight embarrassment, even despite the tense atmosphere his mind was in the midst of. Sam was gone. Sam needed to be saved. Sam was so going to get chewed out later for leaving the motel room at all. Dean was worried and impatient, but that didn't stop him from being mildly amused to find this girl had a nervous habit similar to his.

"That's interesting," he commented, seeing her sheepish expression, all the while speeding the Impala too fast down the roads, "I actually…well, I do the same thing. I t calms me down. I start humming Me-" He was interrupted as Anna finished his sentence.

"Metallica. That's right, I forgot." Dean didn't look at her as he remembered in a whoosh that Anna knew pretty much everything about him. _Oh, yeah…_One of his memories, but also one of her dreams. He found that he wasn't too bothered with her knowing. It was sort of nice not to have to lie about who he was. Sort of.

He silently thanked his car as they pulled to a rough stop beside the run-down house on the street that was called Silk Oak. He exited the car, flinging the trunk open and grapping a heavy duty gun. He slammed the trunk shut and rushed to the passenger door, opening it and squatting to Anna's eye level. He reached in the seat behind her and grabbed some of his newly made silver rounds, loading the gun as quickly as possible.

But all the while he never moved his gaze from hers.

"I need you to listen to me now, okay?" he watched as she nodded, obviously a little thrown off by his casual loading of the gun, "I'm gonna go in there and find Sam. Did you see where he was?"

"In the entry room; the big, dark living room I think. He's chained to the wall like I was…"

"Okay, I'm gonna waste that thing, and I want you to stay in this seat. Don't open this door for any reason, understand? No matter what, don't leave this car and don't even think about coming into that house, alright?" He spoke hurriedly and intently, boring into her with his eyes, trying to make it clear just how serious this was. She didn't hesitate to answer.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"Alright." Dean closed the door and locked the Impala, then headed toward the house, barely visible in the still dark, wee hours of the morning.

He crouched as he strode to the front door, ready to blow away the evil jerk that dared to lay a hand on his brother. He gave one more glance in the Impala's direction, then busted the door open and swung his firearm in front of him, eyes peeled for something to shoot, expecting anything and everything.

Except for someone to shoot back at him.

He heard the trigger before the shot was fired, and had enough sense to hit the floor before the bullet left the barrel. He rolled over, meeting a wall and squeezed off two shots, struggling to see the creature as it fumbled with the gun it wasn't sure how to use.

A gun. Sammy's gun.

Sam was chained to the wall on Dean's left, unconscious but unscathed. Relief washed over Dean as he realized Anna's vision, whatever it was, hadn't yet come to fruition.

Dean pushed himself furiously to his feet, aiming and firing, following the thing as it whipped back and forth around the furnitureless room, too fast to peg. Before he could get a clean shot, the monster was behind him, dealing a blow that sent him flying across the dingy room, smacking the wall twelve feet away. The gun flew from Dean's hand landing in the corner to his right, the corner closest to Sam, a good eight feet away from Dean. He tried to get up, tried to recover from the brutal impact of his body to the wall, but before he could even lift a hand to his head, the creature was an top of him, hitting and screeching, yowling and punching, drawing blood from Dean's lip, cheek, chin, brow. Hit after hit was landed, and Dean couldn't find that part of his brain that knew how to raise his arms in defense, the part that knew how to kick and punch.

Dangit, he was getting the spit beat out of him.

He was thrown again to the other side of the room, back near the door, landing harshly and groaning as his body ached in protest, countless bruises forming, face already swelling, various cuts bleeding. The evil beast that was still growling advanced toward him, and Dean moaned, with out a weapon, without a partner, without a way to get out of this predicament.

He expected…actually, he wasn't sure what he expected. Thinking back, Dean wasn't entirely positive he knew what he expected to happen, the monster to do. Maybe he had expected a miraculous return to consciousness from Sam, who would somehow grab the gun near him and pump the creature full of lead. Maybe he had expected to land a good punch, stunning the creature long enough to give him time to reach his firearm and pump the thing full of lead himself. He didn't know what he had expected, but there was on thing that was for certain.

There was no way on earth or otherwise that he could have expected what happened next.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Dean managed to gasp painfully in surprise and shock, as someone who should not have in the house came running up behind the distracted monster, effectively stabbing it in the back, causing a howl of pain and anger to come from it. The older hunter watched in horror as the creatures attention moved from him to the girl that had just infuriated it. Dean yelled something equivalent to 'NOO!' as the thing flung the girl easily across the room, sending her flying and hitting the wall just as Dean had. She lay sprawled on the floor in the corner, and Dean could feel himself straining to get to his feet, feel himself failing to rise, feel himself yelling to get the monster's attention as it approached the new object of its appetite.

For the second time in as many minutes, something happened that Dean had not in any way expected.

Anna had waited, humming and fidgeting in the car. She stared at the house, wanting Dean to come out, willing Sammy to follow, hoping that they were winning the fight.

Then she heard Dean's shouts.

She sat, horrified to hear the many shots, then the, crashes, the yells and the roars. More crashes sounded, and suddenly Anna felt something she never had before. Whether it be because of recent events, her newfound knowledge, or just her acceptance of reality, a feeling of intuition or premonition overtook her completely. Sitting there, hands pressed against the Impala's window, something within her mind, body - her entire _being _told her that those boys would not come out of this, that this would be the end, a totally usual hunt gone terribly wrong, a situation out of control. The Winchester brothers were supposed to die tonight in thoroughly unglorious battle, in a totally unexpected fashion; not fighting a demon, not even fighting something overtly overwhelming. Sam and Dean were meant to fail on a simple, everyday hunt.

_Oh, scuh-rew that_!

Anna whirled around, reaching into the car's back seat, grasping in the box of silver utensils that Dean had placed there, pulling a knife out then sprinting as soon as the car's door was open. She ignored the brambles and rocks that stung her bare feet, ignored the utter insanity of what she was doing, ignored the fear that should have taken hold of her as she entered the house and saw the scene inside.

She ran at the monster, unafraid and undetected, and shoved the silver fork deep into its back, eliciting a howl of pain and obvious fury.

_Wait,_ she thought, _a fork?! I thought I grabbed a knife! Man, there goes my totally awesome rescue moment! I had to grab a stupid fork-_

Her frustrated thoughts were lost as she was suddenly flung across the room, landing hard and sprawled in a corner. She moaned, hearing yelling and growling, then opened her eyes to see Sam just a few feet from her, chained and unconscious, oblivious to the current situation. She saw Dean, horrorstruck and in pain on the other side of the room, blood running down his face, looking for all the world like he had lost a fight with Rocky Balboa.

Oh yeah, and the supernatural creature was coming at her again, the fork's handle still sticking painfully out of its back. _Great_.

Then Anna realized several things at once.

There was something sticking into her back, something hard and metallic.

The monster was coming, but slowly, obviously inhibited by the small but powerful amount of silver it had been stabbed with.

The hard thing behind her was a gun.

The monster was turning its head momentarily to growl at Dean, who was still shouting.

The gun must be Dean's.

The gun she was now reaching for had to have bullets.

Silver bullets.

Just as the creature turned to face her once again, Anna raised the rather large and unfamiliar gun with both hands, registering the small amount of recognition that appeared in the monster's red eyes. She didn't hesitate and she pulled the trigger, three, four, five times. Bullets flew, and though she was unpracticed and not a great aim, the creature was so close that she didn't miss once. A bullet pierced its belly, shoulder, neck, face, forehead, blood spurting sickeningly as each shot hit. The monster fell to the floor, landing with a gross thud, heaped in a pool of its own blood, face ripped and neck torn, its one remaining eye open to the ceiling, never to register a sight again.

Anna sat, gun still pointed, knowing that it was dead, surprised that she hadn't missed, shocked that her rescue had actually worked. She was shaking and panting, terrified but relieved, and as she lifted her eyes to meet Dean's gaze, she saw that he was doing the same.

Dean stared, mouth hanging open, or as open as it would get with his swelling lip, at Anna. The creature's remains lay on the floor, decimated. He watched as she slowly let the gun fall, and he heard the metal land on the floor in front of her. Her eyes found his, and Dean knew that she was as shocked as he was.

Shock and surprise were overpowered by immense relief, and Dean let himself fall back onto the floor, almost laughing, but unable to because it hurt too much. He groaned, and heard Anna do the same as she got other feet and came to his side.

"Dean! Dean, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. OW! No, don't touch-"

"Oh, sorry! Did I-"

"Go check on Sam. Wake him up. Untie him if you can." He moaned again, still lying on the floor, as Anna went to Sam, who was still chained to the wall. Dean turned his head, watching As Anna used the handle of the gun to bash the rusty chain, freeing Sam from the shackles. She spoke to Sam the whole time, trying to wake him up.

"Sam? Sam wake up, its Anna. Hey, Sam?"

Dean saw his brother stirring, and he added his voice.

"Sam? Sammy?"

Well, Sam did wake up, but then he did something Dean did not expect him to do. For the umpteenth time that night, Dean's eyes bugged as some thing that he had not anticipated occurred.

All these unexpected events were _really_ starting to get on Dean's nerves.

Anna had moved, feeling sore, back over to Sam. Her shoulders were already aching, and if she had been tired before, it was nothing to how exhausted she felt now. Of course, she looked right as rain next to Dean.

She cast her eyes around, looking for something to break the chains that held Sam's arms to the wall, trying to avoid looking at the corpse of the monster that was still oozing blood. She reached for the gun again, turning it and using it to bash against the rusted hoop that linked the chains together, eventually breaking it. She looked to Sam's face as she began to pull the chains off of his wrists, and tried to talk to him as she saw him stirring.

"Sam? Sam wake up, its Anna. Hey, Sam?" She watched as his eyes opened, seeing her face above his, his expression confused and unsure. She watched as Sam's eyes found the gun in her hand, then moved to find Dean, who was calling him, too.

"Sam? Sammy?"

Sam gasped, then returned his gaze furiously to Anna, who was shocked to see accusation and anger in his expression.

She was even more shocked when the still groggy Sam swiftly jerked her and pulled the gun from her hand, shoving her roughly away and taking aim directly at her.

Anna fell to the floor, staring at the younger Winchester, wondering what in the world she'd done to make him so mad. She heard Dean yelling at Sam to stop, heard Sam yelling at her angrily, heard herself yelling as Sam prepared to pull the trigger.

Sam had awoken feeling sore. He couldn't quite recall what had happened. He knew there was something he was supposed to remember, but he couldn't get to it. He knew his last thought had been about Dean. _Something about Dean. Wait, is that Dean's voice?_

"…Hey, Sam?" _No, that's Anna's voice…wait, Anna? Who's Anna?Hold on…_he searched his foggy mind for memories, failing to remember much. _The girl in the house, the girl in the car, she knows us, Dean thinks she's possessed…is that it? What happened next?_ He stopped trying to remember as he finally heard Dean calling his name.

"Sam? Sammy?" Something was wrong. There was something different about Dean's voice – it was strained, painful. _Dean's hurt?_

Sam opened his eyes, not seeing too many details in the dark room. He saw Anna's face immediately above him. _What the…_he thought,_ That's Dean's gun…why is she holding Dean's gun?_

"Sam?" Dean called again. Sam turned his head and locked eyes with his brother. The younger Winchester gasped. Dean had been beaten bloody, his eye and lip already swelling, his body lying tiredly on the floor, only his head moving as he raised himself to see Sam.

Suddenly, Sam was sure he knew what had happened. Suddenly, Sam's head whipped around to find Anna again. Suddenly, all logic left his mind as his not fully coherent mind jumped to conclusions.

Suddenly, he knew without a doubt that Anna was evil.

He grabbed furiously for Dena's gun, throwing Anna to the floor beside him, and pushing himself shakily but quickly to his feet. He took aim, hating himself for letting whatever he now thought had happened, happen. He didn't know what she was or why she was here, but he felt incredibly stupid for ever thinking that she could just be an innocent girl.

He heard Dean shouting for him.

"Sam! SAM! SAMMY!" Sam heard his brother's desperate calls, mistaking them for cries of fear, cries for help.

"I'm here, Dean!" he called back, returning his focus to the girl he believed to be feigning fear in front of him, "Don't move!" He yelled at Anna, proceeding to call her a number of increasingly bad words.

He heard Dean yelling, but the precise words he was using were lost because Sam was yelling too, preparing to fire a bullet into the girl before him, who had also started yelling.

"SAM! Sam, stop! Don't-"

"-DARE you lay a HAND on my brother you-"

"-are you doing?! Dean, what is he-"

"Anna!" Dean was shouting, "Sam, NO!" Sam was about to pull the trigger, when Dean came out of nowhere, barreling into Anna and shielding her with his bruised body. Sam pulled up at the last second, barely missing his brother and hitting this wall behind them. Sam gaped, staring in shock as his brother turned to face him, obviously freaked out and furious.

"What in the heck is wrong with you man?! Anna didn't do anything, she just saved your life! If you'd look around before you go shooting people maybe you'd recognize that!" Dean finished his rant panting, turning to check on Anna.

Sam finally looked around, this time seeing the body of the monster just feet away.

It clicked. He remembered all he had forgotten. He realized what must have happened.

Not only did he feel majorly stupid, but he was now horrified with himself for nearly shooting the poor girl. He sat down heavily, eyes downcast, and put his sore head in his hands.

Dean had been utterly horrified to see Sam about pointing the gun at Anna.

"Sam!" he called, trying to stop his brother from making this crazy mistake, "SAM! SAMMY!"

Everyone was shouting now, and Dean's eyes met with Anna for a moment in the the midst of the tumult.

"Sam, what's…what are you doing?!" she had just finished yelling, "Dean, what is he doing?!" Her gaze met his, and Dean saw the confusion, the fear there. She didn't understand what was happening, why Sam was shouting obscenities at her, accusing her of hurting Dean. Dean knew Sam had made a drastic assumption, and he moved his gaze in time to see Sam's trigger finger moving.

"Anna! Sam, NO!" Dean shouted, forgetting how beat he was, leaping to jump in front of Anna, blocking her body with his, hitting her hard and landing on top of her with a thump that was drowned out by the gunshot. He tensed, waiting for the piercing feeling of the bullet in his back…waiting for pain that never came.

Breathing heavily, he pushed himself up painfully off of the girl beneath him. Anna was wide-eyed and clearly terrified. Angrily, Dean whirled around, feeling the ache, and didn't bother to lower his voice from its former volume as he spoke to Sam.

"Sam what in the heck is wrong with you man?!" he continued to speak, bringing his brother back to reality. He knew Sam had only jumped to conclusions, but he had been about to kill someone over that mistake.

Dean heard Sam's gasp of realization behind him as he checked over Anna.

"Hey, are you okay?" She looked up at him, breathing as heavily as he was, though he knew he probably was looking worse for the wear. She nodded breathlessly, closing her eyes, relieved. He too nodded, closing his own eyes and just lying beside her exhausted.

Of course, he was quietly contemplating the fact that he just had been thoroughly willing to take a bullet for this girl.

It surprised him, but not unpleasantly.

Anna laid there, eyes closed, glad to have Dean near her. She felt safe.

She figured Sam must've made a hugely incorrect assumption, and she heard him sit on the ground after he realized, or remembered, what must have happened.

She sighed with relief at being alive, still surprised at the course the night had taken.

She was also contemplating the fact that Dean had just put himself in the oath of a bullet for her. She also noticed that since having done so, he hadn't let go of her hand.

It surprised her, but not unpleasantly so.

They left the house, Dean limping, Anna stumbling, booth holding the other up. Sam strode silently to the driver's side, opening the door and pausing, watching Anna get into the back seat. Dean turned to face his brother, and they stood there a moment, looking at eachother.

"Dean…"

"I know, Sam. She knows. It's okay." Sam stood there as Dean got gingerly into the Impala. He sighed, feeling guilty, sore, and tired, before getting behind the wheel, turning the ignition, and driving away from the old house.

He managed to bring himself to look back at Anna in the rear view mirror. Their eyes met, and he was surprised to see a smile in her eyes. He knew she forgave him, and Sam felt some semblance of relief.

He drove off into the still dark morning. The sun still had yet to rise.

Geez, what a night.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Sam pulled away from Silk Oak, glad to finally be done with this hunt, glad to be rid of the sight of that monster and his lair, glad to be alive. The dark road fell behind the Impala as it turned the corner onto a slightly better lit street. One solitary streetlight dimly provided a glow that Sam steered through, feeling tired and guilty, and not liking the way his head was hurting from being knocked unconscious earlier.

It struck him as odd that he should be so tired. He'd been unconscious for over two hours – it wasn't a very long time, but it had to count for something right? He hadn't even had to fight. He'd been out the whole time that Dean was getting whooped by the creature. _I wonder how he managed to kill it…?_ Heck, all Sam had suffered was a knockout-blow, but still it was a struggle to keep his eyes open at all.

The guilt though, that was pretty easy to explain. He couldn't believe he'd been so stupid as to leave the motel in the first place, not to mention without letting Dean know, and alone much less. But to grab a gun and nearly blow away the first person he saw when he came to? Sam shook his head as he remembered the certainty with which he had taken aim, the shock he'd experienced when Dean had leaped before the target and nearly been shot, and the shame when Sam had finally taken in his surroundings. _Idiot_, he mentally kicked himself again, _I'm such an idiot. Way to try to kill an innocent girl, Sam._As he guided the Impala down the street, an odd thing happened. With a particularly bothersome throb from his head, the world seemed to quiet down, time seemed to slow considerably. Everything was moving as if through water, word and action decelerating to a snail's pace, so that his thoughts were occurring at a faster rate than normal and his musings all took place within a few seconds. Sam glanced at the streetlight he was now passing. Despite the soreness in his head, he noticed the faint glow the lamp gave out and, strangely, he was momentarily fascinated by it. _It's so…orange._ He blinked rather slowly, forgetting that he was in a car, forgetting that he was driving, distracted by so simple an object._ Is light usually orange? Aren't there different colors? There's black light, and white light…I wonder if there's blue light? Wait, that's just K-mart…_

"Sam!"

Sam jumped at the sound of his name, Dean's sharp tone of voice pulling him immediately from his lapse. He was instantly aware of the fact that he was swerving, headed directly for the light post whose bulb he had just been so awed by – at fifty miles an hour.

Sam's eyes widened as he jerked the steering wheel, barely missing the post, braking and causing the car to swerve sharply to the other side of the road. Time returned to its normal pace and sound came back to its regular volume as the Impala finally came to a crooked stop on the opposite side of the deserted street. Sam's eyes were wide but blinking hard every few seconds, his mouth slightly agape as Dean flipped out.

"Dude, what the holy heaping heck was that?! You almost killed my car!" Dean was holding onto the dash, looking incredulous and furious.

"I- I…the blue, cuz the orange…" Sam fumbled for an answer, tripping over his words, not fully remembering the reason he was so spaced out, "I thought…I, uh…K-mart!"

Sam could feel the eyes of both Dean and Anna staring at him, and for a moment he wondered why his brother was looking like he hadn't understood a word he had said. Then he thought about what he had said. _Wait…what?_ He paused, considering the possibility that he had a concussion. _Oh…that would make sense._

"Sammy, are you ok?" Dean's voice was slow and careful.

"Um, I think I…"

"Sam, you're bleeding," Anna declared.

The younger Winchester turned to find her, looking in the back seat on the right side of the Impala, behind Dean. He was surprised to see that she was now completely on the other side of the car, up against the window and gripping the seat, hair slightly askew. _Did I really swerve that hard? Ok, definite concussion._

"What?"

"Your _head_ is _bleed_ing. And I _think_ you have a concussion."

"Uh, yeah, me too." Sam smiled a bit sheepishly.

Sam looked back to see his brother switching his gaze from Anna to Sam and back. Dean inhaled deeply.

"Ok man, get out of the driver's seat of my car, or I'll tear you a new one. You've officially lost all driving privileges until further notice."

Anna had thankfully slid into the back seat, feeling all around happy. She was happy that they boys were safe. She was happy that she was alive. And she was happy to be off of her hurting feet, able to rest her now aching body at last. She wrinkled her nose when she glanced down at her dirty feet. She gingerly pulled a splinter from her heal, noticing that the bottoms of her feet were all scratched and scraped. _Ew._ Sitting up and leaning back, she closed her eyes as Dean got into the seat in front of her. She opened one eye, grinning as he sat down heavily in the leather seat, then she closed it again.

Funnily enough, she was feeling a little giddy. She actually felt like giggling. Maybe it was the relief after such a close call. Maybe it was the thrill of a successful rescue, though she was fervently trying to omit firing the gun from her memory.

Or maybe she was just liking being around Dean.

If she was honest with herself, she was liking that her hand was still cooling down, after being warmed up from Dean's grasp. He hadn't seemed to realize that he hadn't let go of her hand while getting up from the floor of the house, while trudging out the door, even while opening the door of the car. Only when Anna had been seated did he let go.

And suddenly Anna thought that perhaps she had been holding on just as firmly as he had.

She was contemplating her chances with the older hunter while Sam got into the driver's seat.

As Sam steered away from the road called Silk Oak, Anna was considering just how good the odds were that she and Dean could…

"Sam!" Her eyes snapped open from her musings when she heard Dean's tense voice, seeing the lightpost that was rapidly approaching the front end of the Impala. She gasped as the car swerved violently around her, and she grunted as she was sent none too gracefully across the back seat to hit the door on the other side of the car. She gripped the seat, nearly falling off, and looked up when the car stopped, seeing Sam's startled expression in the rear view mirror. She also saw a small amount of something shining and sticky looking on the back of his head and neck. She cocked her head, trying to classify the substance, while Dean flipped out, demanding an explanation from his younger brother.

As soon as Sam said 'K-mart' she lifted her gaze to stare.

"Sammy, are you ok?" Dean was saying. She watched as Sam blinked once.

"Um, I think I…" as the youngest Winchester spoke, Anna recognized the shiny substance that was dripping from his head – where the creature must have knocked him out earlier.

"Sam, you're bleeding," she stated rather abruptly. All sound in the car was silenced. Dean suddenly looked frantic, then concerned, then confused. He looked at Anna, his expression demanding details. Sam also turned, his gaze searching a moment before he found that she was now on the other side of the back seat.

"What?" he asked, not seeming to believe her.

"Your _head_," she spoke clearly and slowly, as if to a child, "is _bleed_ing," then she added, as an afterthought, "and I _think_ you have a concussion." She watched as Sam seemed to think about it, and his sheepish smile would have been funny had the situation been a little less unfunny.

"Um, yeah," he agreed, "me too."

Anna looked blankly to see Dean's response, nearly laughing when she saw the perplexity there. He was obviously unsure whether to be angry or concerned; Sam was clearly ok, just a little spacey. The sandy-haired hunter seemed to come to a decision after taking a deep breath.

"Ok man," he told Sam firmly, "get out of the driver's seat of my car, or I'll tear you a new one." He appeared to be trying to both glare and look caring at the same time. It was almost comical.

"You've officially lost all driving privileges until further notice."

Sam sort of nodded, then moved to get out of the car as Dean shook his head and muttered something about 'K-mart of all things.'

Anna scooted back over to her original seat as Sam got into the back seat too. She noticed that Dean was about to open his door, and she frowned.

"What are you doing?" she asked the elder Winchester.

Dean turned to look at her with a 'duh' expression, or as much of the expression as his beaten face could manage.

"Uh, I'm going to drive."

"Uh, no you're not."

"Excuse me?"

Anna sighed, giving Dean a condescending look that she knew would bug the heck out of him.

"Dean, you're dead tired, you just got beat to heck, you can only see properly out of one eye, and you groan every time you twitch. You are not driving," and she proceeded to calmly exit the car and go around to get into the driver's seat before Dean could say 'huh?'

"Whoa, whoa whoa – sweetheart, you are not driving my car."

"Dean, you probably have a concussion yourself, and I am not getting thrown around that back seat while you swerve because you're sore all over. Wait, did you just call me sweetheart?!"_ Okay, do not give me that 'term of feminine belittlement' treatment._

"I'm fine! And as for getting thrown around, it's called a seatbelt. I've taken my fair share of beatings, and I can drive _blind_ with a broken arm better than you can on your best day!"

"Well that's just too bad, 'cause I'm driving."

She turned to smile innocently at Dean, finding his astounded expression rather amusing.

Dean had turned, groaning slightly, to open his door so that he could drive. _Dangit Sam, _he privately complained,_ nearly killed the car…concussion plus driving equals BAD!_

"What are you doing?" he heard Anna's voice behind him, and he turned, trying not to wince, to throw a 'duh' expression her way.

"Um, I'm going to drive." _What do you think I'm doing?_

"Um, no you're not," came the reply, and Dean cocked his head a little to the side, not quite getting what this girl was trying to tell him. He blinked a couple of times as he responded.

"Excuse me?" He watched as she gave him a condescending look that seriously bugged the heck out of him, and it might've been maddening if it hadn't been so very attractive for her to scold him like she was now. People did not generally look as good as the girl did anyway, but the fact that Anna was dirty and tired and scolding, but still managing to look tempting was…awesome. And hard to ignore. _But still…_Dean had to remind himself before his musing could continue, _don't forget about what's his face…Brian. Wait, what did she just say about driving?!_Dean watched with growing perplexity as she finished saying something about his driving then exited the Impala. Before he could fathom just what she was doing, she was sitting next to him in the driver's seat…_wait, what?!_

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he couldn't decide whether to be mad or laugh, "sweetheart, you are not driving my car." _Nobody drives my car but me…and Sam, but only if absolutely necessary._

He continued to argue with the girl who's hand was moving toward the ignition, wondering why he wasn't already outside the driver's door, pulling her forcibly out and taking his rightful place in seat she was currently occupying. Maybe it was because he really was tired, and he really was sore, and driving would really just hurt right now. Maybe he knew that letting the least injured person present steer was probably a good idea.

Maybe he was secretly curious to see if this chick got along with his baby. Maybe he was already assessing her as a possibility, not as a one-nighter, but as something else…something more. Maybe he wanted to know if his baby approved of her…

Dean considered the fact that he was actually asking his car's opinion of the girl before him.

Maybe he really _did_ have a concussion.

"Well that's just too bad," Anna was saying matter-of-factly while Dean stared half furious, half just plain floored, "'cause I'm driving." She smiled innocently at him, and Dean decided that there was no way he was surrendering the wheel of his pride and joy to _anyone_. However, he didn't have a chance to voice that assertion, because Sam said it for him.

"Um, Anna," Sam said from the backseat, "just let him drive, he'll never let you." Dean was surprised at that. Sam was usually the first to suggest that Dean rest, relax, take it easy. The eldest hunter looked to Anna for her response, suddenly wondering if he really was as hardheaded as Sam's sentence had made him out to be.

He watched in shock as she just ignored the younger brother's words and turned the ignition.

"Hey-!" Dean didn't even finish his firm protest at the girl's audacity, because she gave him a look so reminiscent of his father, that he was struck dumb, and he decided that maybe she wasn't so incapable after all. "Fine!" he conceded reluctantly, "Fine! You can drive, dangit!" He sat back in his seat, knowing Sam was staring, hearing the chuckles in the backseat, and sensing the smile that was spreading across the girl's face.

Stupid, stubborn, women.

It took about one point eight seconds for Dean to flip out again. It turned out Anna didn't drive badly – she drove like a maniac.

She absolutely floored the accelerator, smiling broadly as the Impala took off insanely down the road toward the nearby town. The engine roared, he heard Sam gasp in surprise, and Dean sat wide-eyed and open-mouthed as Anna broke every speed limit law known to man, speeding ridiculously, ignoring numerous signs, running occasional lights. It was a good thing it was so late – or early – because had there been any pedestrians crossing the streets, they would surely have been hit. He had to remind himself to breathe as he feared for his car's immediate well-being, all the while marveling at what he was realizing.

Anna had to be the most reckless driver he had ever known. And holy heck it was the most attractive thing in the stinkin' world!

Somehow, despite the risk that his baby was being unfairly subjected to, he was _loving_ that the girl was utilizing the car's full potential, enjoying its bulk and sound, clearly pleased to be experiencing the feel of the classic under her control. She seemed to have forgotten what a brake was, and the stick shift was left untouched as she maintained a ridiculous speed, one that Dean had rarely ever dared to push the Impala to. Dean had to stare in disapproval and something close to admiration when the girl actually starting laughing. Laughing! She was clearly enjoying herself.

However, it wasn't long before the better lit streets of the town loomed before the fast approaching car; they had traveled in two minutes what had earlier taken four times as long, and Dean's instincts to protect and preserve his car overruled his fascination with the driver.

"Slow down, Anna! Now!" She looked like she was just remembering that there were other's in the car with her. She slowed drastically, shifting several gears at once, and continued to drive into the town at a constant, more reasonable speed. Dean exhaled heavily, feeling the way it ached, and glared half-heartedly at he still grinning girl, more out of loyalty to the car than anything – he couldn't possibly find it within himself to actually be angry, though it should have been easy. Had Sam ever pulled a stunt like that, things would have gotten way ugly, way fast.

Instead, he merely gazed at her, seeing her eyes shift once to catch his before focusing on the road. He watched her, and it wasn't until he heard Sam speaking that he pulled his gaze away.

"…craziest driver I've ever met!" Sam was fervently insisting, "I can't believe you made such a big deal out of _my_ driving." Dean looked into the rear view to see his brother still was holding onto his seatbelt for dear life, even though Anna's wild driving antics had ceased. Dean smirked, then turned to the driver once more.

It was perfect timing, as it turned out, because the girl had just turned to ask which way to go.

"Which street do I turn-"

"Don't turn," Dean corrected, facing the road ahead once more, "keep going." Anna obeyed, and he heard the confused curiosity in her voice as she asked her next question.

"Where are we going?" Dean was also surprised to hear the return of exhaustion in the girl's tone; the temporary energy from her thrill ride had obviously worn off, and she was even more tired than she had been. Dean had no trouble empathizing.

"There's a 24-hour-mart up ahead. I saw it when me and Sam drove in."

"What are we buying?"

"Ice." No further explanation was needed. Dean looked at Anna again, seeing her glance at him. He took in the sight of the purplish spot that was forming on the side of her cheek, the way her shoulder was scraped and bruising; he looked into the rear-view mirror again, seeing Sam gingerly touching the back of his head, no doubt feeling a bump; Dean looked down at himself, knowing that there would be bruises around his ribs and on his arms, not to mention his beaten face.

He turned back to the previously manic driver of his car, who was now driving calmly, focusing rather intently on shifting as she pulled up to 'Big Al's 24-Hour Mart'.

"Yeah," he determined, "lots of ice."


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Sam was sorely tempted to let blissful slumber claim him. It wasn't yet four o'clock in the morning, and as the Impala pulled up to 'Big Al's 24-Hour Mart,' he couldn't help but give a small sigh knowing that he wasn't at the motel yet, that he wasn't near blankets and pillows, that he would have to keep his eyes open for another fifteen minutes at least. Even with the slight wooziness that nibbled at the edge of his mind, he knew that he couldn't sleep, not yet. _Stupid concussion…_he inwardly grumbled, sounding childish even to himself. _Stupid me for getting the stupid concussion. Stupid, stupid, stupid…_Sam's brow furrowed as he forgot his wonderings, noticing that those who were currently seated in the front of the car were arguing. Again. Oh joy.

Sam watched with one eyebrow raised, his eyes moving back and forth from face to face, as if watching a tennis match, while Dean an Anna bickered.

_Stupid, stubborn men_, Anna griped to herself.

It was utterly ridiculous. As soon as the car was parked, Dean had reached to open his door, clearly meaning to go into the store for the ice. Naturally, Anna had insisted that he not, seeing as he looked like plastic surgery gone wrong with his blood caked face. Naturally, she had determined that she should be the one to go into the market, since she was the only one who wasn't bleeding, and since she was probably the one who could walk straightest out of the three of them. Naturally, she had been completely sure that the eldest brother would have to agree with her, seeing as she _was_ in the right after all.

Naturally, Dean disagreed.

Anna was tired, sore, and just plain done with all things not involving sleep for the night. Still, they went back and forth, arguing over something so ludicrous, and Anna couldn't help but be frustrated by the stupidity of the moment, as Dean's retort inspired a similar response from her.

"Hey," he was saying, "I just let you drive my car – like a _maniac_, by the way – and now you want me to let you go _alone_ into a place called Big Al's at _four in the_ _morning_ to spend _my_ money?"

"Oh my goodness, do you honestly think I would or _could_ go on a spree in _that_ place with _five bucks_?! And who cares what it's called, I can handle myself!"

"I'm going, you're not, that's it."

"You look like a zombie!"

"At least _I'm_ wearing shoes!"

"At least_ my _face is still pretty!" That one started the eruption.

"At least _I_ do what I'm told to do when someone who knows what they're doing tells me to do it!" Anna glared at Dean, knowing that he was referencing her leaving the car back at the house, even when he explicably told her not to. It was stupid though; what was she supposed to have done, let them die?

All these thoughts passed in less than a millisecond before her swift retort came.

"I saved your life!"

"You used a fork!" _Oh my word he saw that?! Aw, kill me now…_Anna knew her face was flushing crimson, and she wanted nothing more than to crawl under the Impala and disappear, so strong was her embarrassment. However, her sudden anger was just as powerful.

"I seem to remember a gun too!" she protested bitterly, hating the memory of firing the weapon, of not hesitating to kill.

"Yeah, well you were just lucky I left it there for you."

"You were getting killed."

"You almost got killed yourself," Dean's voice radiated disapproval. Anna was furious_. That isn't fair! He was going to die! Sam was going to die! Of course I risked myself! Does he honestly think I would've just stood by and watched?!_ It was hard to think of how close things had come, especially when she thought of what had driven her to rush in there. Dean didn't know about her premonition. He hadn't known that it was going to be the end. He'd probably expected some miraculous escape, some sudden lifeline. He didn't realize just how miraculous his recue had been. Anna found it hard to keep the volume of her voice under control as she spoke again.

"Well what was I supposed to do?!"

"What I told you to do!"

"_You would have died!"_ she practically shouted. She glared again at the sandy-haired hunter before her, knowing that this was pointless, knowing that it was their exhaustion and aches speaking, knowing that they were acting like children.

Surprisingly, Sam spoke up from the back seat, but he was quickly shut down.

"Uh, guys-"

"Shutup Sam!" the snipe came from both parties of the bickering, and they once again returned to staring each other down. Anna sighed with tired frustration.

"Dangit, a simple thank you would be nice," she forced though clenched teeth. Dean seemed to pause, as if realizing for the first time where the simple argument had ended up, the tangent they had gone off on, what he had been saying.

"Fine. Thank you," came his stiff reply, voice still slightly loud.

"Fine. Your welcome," Anna's tone matched his exactly.

"Fine."

"Fine."

The silence echoed in the small space of the classic Chevy.

Of course, the problem of who was to get the ice still remained to be solved. Anna sighed again as the discussion revved up once more.

_Stupid, stubborn women_, Dean griped to himself.

It had been mere seconds since they'd pulled into the parking lot of the store, and already he had several bills in hand, ready to drag himself however painfully out of the car to buy the much needed ice, among a few other things that he hadn't mentioned to the other two passengers. Naturally, he'd been surprised to find Anna stopping him _again_, demanding in that dang 'agree with me because I'm always right' voice of hers that she be the one to go in and buy the ice. Naturally, he didn't appreciate her description of his face's current disposition as 'looking like plastic surgery gone wrong.' Naturally, he'd realized that she actually expected him to just give in to her.

Naturally, he disagreed.

Dean was aching, exhausted, and pretty much fed up with all this unexpectedness the night had thus far subjected him to. He was so stinkin' sick of surprises, visions, and being awake. He was just done with all things not involving sleep.

And so, he really couldn't help that he kinda snapped at Anna. He couldn't help that he took his tiredness, soreness, and pent up grumpiness out on her. He couldn't help being a bit unfriendly. He couldn't help what he said. He couldn't help glaring at her. He couldn't help…staring at her. He couldn't help gazing at her face. He couldn't help looking over her arms. He couldn't help noticing the shape of her legs. He couldn't help seeing how soft her lips seemed. He couldn't help wondering what she smelled like on a normal day. He couldn't help wanting to know if she fit into his arms the right way. He couldn't help liking that dimple on her left cheek. He couldn't help wishing to smooth her dark hair with his hand. He couldn't help it…

_Aw dangit. Great, just great._

Dean couldn't help feeling like an idiot. He couldn't help but be thoroughly freaked out by the thoughts that were flying through his mind. He couldn't help but feel totally perplexed, wondering where the heck that had all come from.

He also couldn't help that his immediate reaction, or rather defense mechanism, was to pick a fight.

"No way. I'm going in there, you're waiting here," he corrected Anna.

"Dean, it makes much more sense if you just let me-"

"Hey, I just let you drive my car – like a _maniac_, by the way – and now you want me to let you go _alone_ into a place called Big Al's at _four in the morning_ to spend _my_ money?" _Anyone that looks like you do in those pants should not be allowed to leave their house, much less enter a suspicious establishment at his hour, you crazy-driving-bound-to-get-raped-danger-magnet!_

"Oh my goodness," _Did she just say 'my goodness'?_ "do you honestly think I would or _could_ go on a spree in _that_ place with _five bucks_?!" _Well…_ "And who cares what it's called," _Um, I do_, "I can handle myself!" _Yeah, I doubt it._

"I'm going, you're not, that's it."

"You look like a zombie!" _Whoa, them's fightin' words._

"Well at least _I'm_ wearing shoes!"

"Well at least _my_ face is still pretty!" _Oh no, you did not just insult the face!_

"At least _I_ do what I'm told when someone who knows what they're doing tells me to do it!" It was a low blow, and one Dean hadn't meant to deal, but there was no going back now. He knew that this was ridiculous; he owed this girl his life. But he couldn't shake what was flowing from some unknown source, and whatever it was, he was illogically and involuntarily pouring it out in the form of rebuke on his rescuer.

"I saved your life!" _Besides the point._

"You used a fork!" _Yeah, darn right I saw that. Don't know what the heck you were thinking…don't know how the heck it worked either._

"I seem to remember a gun too!" _Now devoid of painstakingly made bullets; gee thanks._

"Yeah, well you were just lucky I left it there for you." _Or dropped it…whatever._

"You were getting killed." _No way._

"You almost got killed yourself." _I would have got us out of it somehow._

"Well what was I supposed to do?!" _We didn't need your help._

"What I told you to do!" _We would have been fine._

"_You would have died_!" _I WOULD NOT HAVE LET SAMMY DIE!_

"Uh, guys-" _Now is not the time little bro!_

"Shutup Sam!" _Can't you see I'm having a discussion with this crazy chick?_

Dean returned to staring at Anna, trying to keep his gaze on her eyes. He couldn't come to terms with the fact that this night might have been the end if not for her. It literally sickened him to think that Sam could so easily have been lost if not for Anna Walker. It hurt to no end to imagine that he would not have been able to save himself, much less his baby brother.

He just wasn't ready to handle a revelation of that magnitude. But then Anna gave him a way out of the painful subject, and as she averted her eyes, he noticed that there was something he couldn't quite place; some sort of emotion that he recognized, but couldn't classify. He dismissed it as she spoke.

"Dangit," she muttered, "a simple thank you would be nice." Dean blinked. This was stupid. _I'm stupid. Man…_ But he was loathe to relent his stand, embarrassed to admit he'd gone too far in his reprimand, and so he did his best to maintain control over the conversation.

"Fine," he said, "thank you." _And I'm sorry…but I'm not saying part that out loud._

"Fine," her tone matched his exactly, and it somehow pleased him immensely that she could pull of that tone of voice at all, "you're welcome."

"Fine." He didn't know what else to say.

"Fine." Apparently, neither did she.

And the silence echoed in the Impala. For about three seconds.

"Now," Dean began again, ignoring the heavy sigh that Anna gave, "if you don't mind, and even if you do mind because I don't really care, I'm going to get some ice."

"Fine. I'm going with." _Excuse me?_

"What?"

"Do you really want to carry all that heavy ice by yourself?" _What am I, four?_

"I got it covered." _Why is she smirking like that?_

"You won't go." _Okay, that smile is way too confident and devious for my liking._

"Wh-"

"You were in the same motel room with Sam, and he still managed to get himself into trouble," it was really a good thing that Sam was kinda spacey, because rather than be indignant, he merely looked confused as Anna kept speaking to Dean, that ridiculously confident smirk still on her face, "you're not really going to leave him in the parking lot of a suspicious establishment are you? In fact, you probably won't let him out of your sight for the next week at least." Dean stared. He had indeed completely forgotten that Sam was a bit out of it. He'd automatically assumed tha Sam would just follow him into the market. Now that he thought about it, he really didn't want to leave Sam in the car, in the parking lot of "Big Al's." He really had planned on keeping Sam by his side until further notice. Trouble just seemed to follow that boy, and Dean didn't doubt that if Sam was left alone for five minutes, even in the company of this girl, trouble would manage to find him again.

So Dean continued to stare at the girl before him, shocked that she had him pegged so well. The smirk on her face proved that she knew what she was doing.

"Face it," she declared, "you won't leave him, so you're going to have to let me go."

Dean frowned, feeling himself edging toward the losing side in this tug of war.

Then an idea struck.

"Yeah, well guess what – I'm not leaving you either. You, looking like you do, alone in that place is just a recipe for disaster, and I'm not letting you out of my sight either." _So there._

Dean raised an eyebrow when Anna blushed; actually blushed. She looked at Sam, then back at Dean, and her smirk turned almost to a grimace.

"Well," she said, "I guess we'll all have to go in then."

_Aw dangit_, Dean grumbled.

_Stupid, stubborn, seatbelt,_ Sam griped to himself.

He'd been fumbling for the last fifteen seconds, trying desperately to undo the strap, but his fingers didn't seem to be cooperating. Finally, the buckle clicked loose, freeing its captive and allowing Sam to exit the car. He did so a little too quickly, staggering slightly before righting himself and following the others to the mart. He titled his head, noticing that for all the arguing that had taken place mere moments before, Anna and Dean seemed to have forgotten it all rather quickly. They were walking awfully close together, just millimeters away from each other but not quite touching. Furtive glances were exchanged, neither quite catching the other in the act, but both smiling secretly to themselves as if enjoying a game.

Sam supposed he should have expected it. Actually, he'd thought that Dean would've made his advance quite a while ago, so hasty he always was to get the girl.

But then, Dean had always been way obvious and direct with his flirting. He'd never been subtle or difficult. He was usually cool and smooth with his 'wooing,' for lack of a better term. _So why change tactics now?_ Unless he wasn't actually trying. He was tired and beat; why would he think about that kind of thing right now? Sam looked at Anna, saw the way she pulled her hair behind her ear, how she tilted her head just slightly, how she kept her lips in the perfect little grin.

And suddenly Sam wondered who was wooing whom.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

They walked, somewhat slowly due to various injuries, to the store's entrance. The neon in the dingy window halfheartedly blinked "Always Open," and the door creaked a bit when Dean pushed it open.

Inside, it was surprisingly cleaner, more like a grocery than anything, and the trio moved past the only two cashier's stations without making eye contact, heading toward the nearest isle. The two tired cashiers working the graveyard shift didn't bother to hide their stares, and it was clear that they were trying to figure out whether they should be concerned for or frightened of the dirty, bloody, bashed up group that had entered their workplace.

Anna followed Dean, who she noticed was hiding his winces rather well, down the 'Hygiene' isle, seeing the ice freezer at the end of it in the isle adjacent. Numerous shampoos, conditioners, and hair gels were ignored as they kept their course down the ridiculously long isle. _It really didn't look this big from the outside_, Anna mused, _It looks like they've got everything here._

"Hey Anna, what's your favorite color?" It took her a moment to realize that it was Dean who had spoken, and she was surprised to see that he had stopped a few feet in front of her, examining a selection of brightly colored items on the shelf. She adopted a puzzled look, wondering why on earth Dean would ask her that question.

"Uh, wha…um, black." She blurted, a little thrown off. She raised her brows as Dean turned to face her, his face disbelieving, then laughing heartily. Anna's face remained blank.

"What's so funny?" she asked as Dean continued to chuckle. She strode over to where he was standing, her peripheral vision picking up the fact that Sam had traveled the further eight feet to the end of the isle and was picking a bag of ice from the large freezer. She focused on the many toothbrushes that Dean was looking at, wondering why he was doing so.

"What did I do?" she asked again, annoyed that she was obviously the butt of some joke.

"Nothing," Dean answered, finally ending his laughter and settling for a teasing smile; a very _attractive_ teasing smile, "I just…well, I figured you'd say pink or blue, or something." He looked at her and she knew that she still wore that puzzled look.

"Well, my favorite color is black," she stated matter-of-factly, still unsure why he'd asked in the first place, "Blue's okay, but I hate pink." She glared at the offending color for good measure, spotting it on a nearby toothbrush. Dean laughed again.

"Good," he said, clearly glad that they had similar taste in colors, "except I don't think they have any black toothbrushes. They have a purple one: you want that?" He was still grinning, but the moment seemed to pause since it had just struck Anna what Dean was meaning.

Dean was buying her a toothbrush.

It was a small consideration; just the tiniest bit of thoughtfulness. But it was…there were no words to describe it. If it had been a movie, it would've been the part where everyone goes 'aaaw,' because something sweet takes place.

But then again, Anna wasn't all too sure how to do 'sweet.' She wasn't even sure if she liked 'sweet.' So she settled for sarcasm instead.

"What are you trying to say?" she teased, a grin playing across her face, "Does my breath smell that bad?" Dean raised an eyebrow again, his tiredness clearly causing him to let his normal tough guard down, but not making him lose any of his humor.

"Not yet, but in the morning…"

"At least mine doesn't smell now," she grinned.

"Please, I always smell good."

"And I'm not conceited either," they were both grinning now.

"No, you're just stubborn."

"Jerk," she said jokingly without thinking.

And then Dean responded without thinking in the manner that he usually did when Sam called him a jerk. It was reflex; habit, but of course, the particular term he used doesn't usually go over well with most members of the female sex. However, Anna knew that it was his trademark response to Sam, that it wasn't meant, that it wasn't anything, and so it didn't bother her in the slightest. Dean, however, was generally a smooth guy, and preferred not to be as foulmouthed with women as he was with his brother – especially women he was interested in. He seemed to realize what he had accidently called Anna right after he said it, and the look on his face was so priceless that she couldn't help but play up the moment. She allowed herself to look just a tad shocked, her wide brown eyes looking askance at Dean while she inwardly giggled.

"Oh god," Dean groaned apologetically, "I didn't – I mean…" He was floundering for a way to explain, of that much Anna was sure, and so she let her smile fall back into place, chuckling at Dean's unnecessary embarrassment.

"I'm kidding, don't freak out," her eyes twinkled as a sheepish expression crossed his features.

"Uh, I-"

"Dean, it's fine. Lemme guess, you responded as if I was Sam, right?" she saw his nod, "No harm done. It's not a big deal at all. You forget; I've heard you say a lot worse than that, even if it wasn't actually in person."

She paused as he considered her words, but their momentary silence interrupted by the sound of shattering ice and swear words. They both turned to find the source of the sudden commotion, and they both hid their snorts of laughter at the sight of an embarrassed Sam trying to apologize to one of the cashiers, who was now cleaning up the mess made by the bag of ice that had just split while in the younger Winchester's grasp.

Leaving the brown haired hunter to his awkward situation, Anna turned to see Dean facing at her with an appraising look, and she sensed that a question was heading her way.

From what she knew of Dean, and that was quite a bit, he was never the 'let's talk and get to know each other' type. He was more of a 'let's head back to my place, and by the way what's your name' kind of guy. Maybe it was just the lack of sleep that was making him act a little less smooth and a little too sweet. Maybe it was the strangeness of this long night that was temporarily changing his M.O. Or maybe he just wasn't aware that he was coming off as genuinely…_what's the word…guy-next-doorish?_ Whatever the reason, Anna found it odd, but not in a bad way, that Dean was talking with her so openly then, and she was almost unsure as she answered his query. Almost, but not quite.

Dean almost hesitated. Almost, but not quite. He suddenly, desperately wanted to know what was going through her head, felt the need to find out how she was so calm, so collected after all that had already happened. It didn't seem natural that someone so incredibly normal…well, at least seemingly normal - most girls' favorite colors were relatively close to pink; but someone as thoroughly sane as Anna shouldn't have to get dragged into a stinkin' demon war. She shouldn't have to be an unwilling soldier, an obligated participant…_or a casualty_. Dean pushed that possibility from his thoughts, finding it disconcerting how much just the suggestion angered him.

So he almost hesitated. He changed his query last second, losing to his nature and avoiding the heart of his curiosity because it was coated with vulnerability.

"Anna…" he began, gazing appraisingly at her, noting her open yet careful eyes, seeing that she knew a question was coming but was unsure what to expect. Dean sighed inwardly, resigned to switching to a less pressing inquiry that he had nevertheless been meaning to ask.

"…why a fork?" he felt the grin forming even as he said it, and the sight of the blush creeping into her face that now held wide, round eyes was actually amusing.

"What?!" her shoulder's fell a little, as embarrassed exasperation made itself known in her tone and features. Dean nearly started laughing again.

"I mean, you had a freakin' arsenal at your disposal in that trunk," he was sniggering now, "and you chose a fork? O man…"

"Ugh…" Anna rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too, even if a bit ashamedly, "I happened to think it was a knife, okay? Sam said you needed silver to kill the thing, so I figured a knife through its evil heart was a good idea. Besides, I redeemed myself didn't I? I mean, I did still shoot the thing." Dean was surprised by that. He hadn't expected a real motive behind the weapon choice, just thought it was a fluke. He also hadn't anticipated the taint of bitterness in that last remark. He raised an eyebrow as he spoke again.

"Yeah," he agreed as Anna inspected the purple toothbrush he had handed her, "that you did. Like a pro, you know," he added pointedly, "Didn't waver, didn't miss. I was surprised actually," he admitted, wondering why he was telling her this, why he felt so compelled to just…talk to her. _Must be losing it._ He continued anyway, turning to look at her, "When'd you learn to shoot?"

She met his eyes, and it was plain shocking to see them as they were. _Oh man…_Such a sadness, such a fear – all that she must have been fighting since awaking. _So much for calm and collected…guess you're pretty normal after all. _And just like that, their joking ended and the conversation shifted into sudden seriousness.

"I didn't," she informed him quietly, "I've never touched a gun in my life." _Oh. Well dang._ "I don't know how I managed it," she admitted, nearly whispering. Her eyes were drifting, staring at the memory of it, her brow furrowed and her face blank save for her eyes, "I didn't think, didn't hesitate. I just knew I had to…to kill it." Her gaze moved back up to meet Dean's before she continued, "I wanted to. It felt good. It felt…right. And that pretty much scares the heck out of me."

Dean thought back to another time, when he'd voiced the same concern to Sam; _The things I'm willing to do or kill…It scares me sometimes._

And in that moment, Dean knew exactly what was going through Anna's head, knew what she was wondering, thinking, fearing, feeling, fleeing, holding, hoping, praying.

He knew because it was the same thing that went thought his head and heart everyday.

Sam had decided that ice was altogether evil.

Not one, but two bags had split the second the freezer door was open. Not only that, but he knew that they had purposefully slid under his shoe and made him scramble to not fall, forcing him to grasp the cold freezer door and leave embarrassingly dirty handprints on the glass. The cashier that had showed up as if summoned by someone intent on humiliating Sam, which the brown-haired hunter wouldn't have put it past the evil ice to do, didn't bother to hide his stare as he took in the sight of Sam swearing and clinging to the freezer door, slipping on ice that was spilled everywhere.

It wasn't that Sam felt stupid for making the guy come to clean up, or that he was embarrassed at the mess he'd made. It wasn't that he thought he'd aggravated the cashier or made himself look like an idiot. In fact, any of those things would have been waaaay preferable to the response he ended up getting.

It turned out the cashier wasn't just staring because Sam looked like he'd gotten mugged. It turned out the cashier didn't have a problem with the mess or cleaning it up. It turned out the cashier wasn't aggravated at all. It turned out that the guy didn't consider Sam stupid or idiotic at all. Instead he seemed practically euphoric at having an excuse to approach who he obviously saw as a very attractive prospective date.

Sam cursed all the ice in the world.

He was ready to crawl under the nearest 'on sale' display and die when Dean and Anna decided to join the party. _Why god? Why?!_ Dean was looking ridiculously entertained and Anna was barely stifling giggles behind her hand.

It was at that moment that the older brother stepped up to Sam and joined the ice on the list of the most evil things on the planet.

"Sammy, honey?" Dean said much too sweetly to his horrified brother with a thoroughly non-innocent smile on his face, "Oh my stars, what a mess! Goodness, that's just like him," Dean was speaking to the cashier now, who had just begun to looked majorly crestfallen, "He's always making a mess at home. Right, honey?" Anna was now doubled over in silent laughter, and Sam was looking like he'd been sentenced to death by toothpick.

By the time they'd left the market, one bag of the evil ice in tow, Sam was thoroughly certain that ice was responsible for all bad things in the world.

By the time Anna had caught her breath, the newly disappointed cashier was ringing up their items. Dean had added a purple Batman toothbrush, a bag of peanut M&M's, a bottle of peroxide, and a pair of black flip flops. He had inconspicuously assessed Anna's bare feet and his estimate of size 7 ½ was spot on.

Anna smiled when he handed them to her outside the store without letting a very grumpy looking Sam see, and without looking at her himself.

And as she pulled up too fast to the motel, she decided she had never felt so happy as she was to see the dirty old door with a rusty number twenty-two on it in her life.

By the time they got back to the motel, Dean was so tired and sore that he would gladly have laid down in the parking lot rather than travel the immense expanse of land between the car and the room. But he couldn't. _Dangit._ He would much rather have crashed in the bed than showered and cleaned out his cuts and scrapes. But he couldn't. _Dangit and dangit again. _He would have liked to skip applying ice to his face, allowing Sam to stitch him up, and feeling bad for making his younger brother sleep on the floor. But he couldn't.

He also would have liked to ignore the fact that he'd just bought something other than a beer for a girl, that he'd just adjusted his pillow enough to allow him a clear view of her already sleeping form across the dark room from him, that instead of letting himself fall immediately asleep as he'd wanted to, he was staying awake to make sure she was sleeping soundly. But he couldn't. He wanted to deny that he was finding himself fascinated by the way the moonlight reflected just slightly off of her hair, that he was already missing her giggle, that he was rapidly becoming more and more attracted to her in a way different from what was usual for him. But he couldn't. He wanted to forget that Sam was in the room, forget that she would eventually have to go back to not existing, forget that she might already be involved with that Brian guy in her own dimension. But he couldn't.

Dean would have preferred things to be very different than they were. He would have like to change circumstances. He would have liked to alter the situation. But he couldn't.

And as he finally allowed sleep to consume him, he felt slightly overwhelmed by the amount of things he couldn't do, and by how powerless he had suddenly seemed to become.

_Dangit, dangit, dangit._


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

They had all fallen asleep at just before 5:00 in the morning. They had all been exhausted, aching, and relatively grumpy.

It wasn't all that surprising that they slept 'til 8:30. In the evening.

Sam was the first to wake, and so the first to shower. It felt odd to wake up at night, but it didn't make too much of a difference. Pulling himself up from the floor had been no small feat, but as the hot water loosened the knots in his muscles, he smiled despite it all.

It wasn't until the steam had seeped out of the bathroom that Dean was finally up and warning Sam that he'd better not have used all the hot water. As the door closed behind his big brother, Sam cast a glance over at Anna, who seemed just on the verge of waking, since she was squirming slightly under the covers. Sam crossed the room to the dresser which held Dean's discarded pistol, and picked up the gun, intending to wipe it down before placing back in the weapons bag. It was a habit to keep their various tools of supernatural extermination hidden; you never knew who could show up at the door.

Before he could take one step with the gun, however, Anna jerked awake with a small gasp. Sam recognized the expression on her face, having worn it frequently himself. It was the classic aftereffect of a nightmare. He had suspected that the events of last night were haunting Anna more than she was letting on, anyway. He had expected that she would let her strangely Dean-like barriers down sooner or later.

What he hadn't expected was for her face to pale as her eyes found him, or for her to fall out of her bed as she jumped in obvious fear.

"Holy-!" Her exclamation was cut short as her body hit the floor, and she struggled with the blankets that were now tangled around her. Sam whirled around to find whatever it was that had to be behind him. He cast his eyes about the empty space, eyebrows furrowing when that space was devoid of supernatural creature or anything more frightening than a lamp stand. He turned back to Anna, seeing her stare, no longer scared, but more confused and ashamed looking, in his general direction. He looked down at himself.

He realized that he still had the gun in his hand. The same gun he'd pointed at Anna the night before.

"Oh," was all he could manage as he realized what it was that Anna must have been dreaming about. Guilt and embarrassment settled on his already sagging shoulders.

_The creature was dead. She'd killed it. She'd saved them. Dean was telling her to check on Sam, and Anna suddenly had a strange sensation of déjà vu. Hadn't she done this already? She turned and found Sam. She broke his chains with the gun. He squirmed. "Sam?" she asked, noticing that her voice sounded muted, almost like a recording. "Sam, it's Anna." Sam's eyes opened and he gazed around the dark room before facing her again, and Anna gasped to see the fiery anger in his eyes. She yelped as he shoved her away, wrenching the gun from her hand and cursing at her repeatedly. She pushed herself up off the ground and turned to ask Dean what was happening, but found he wasn't there. She searched frantically with her eyes but could find no green eyes or sandy hair. Sam was aiming at her and telling her that she had killed Dean. "I didn't! Sam, I didn't kill Dean! It's not true!" Sam was somehow twice as tall as was normal for him, and he was pointing the gun and preparing to fire. Anna began to cry. "What are you doing Sam?! Sam! Please, NO!"She couldn't have killed Dean. She would never hurt Dean. "Sam, don't!"Sam was firing now, and she didn't have time to scream or close her eyes before the bullets pierced her head and she fell. She was dead. She knew she was dead._

She gazed out the window into the night, through what she knew to be her dead eyes. She blinked. She jumped up in shock and fear, gasping as she awoke. Her eyes found Sam, normal size now but with the same gun in hand.

"Holy-!"She jumped and fell out of the bed with a thump. She struggled out of the tangle of blankets quickly, frantically whipping her head around to stare at Sam, who was looking very alarmed and slightly confused. _Oh_, Anna thought, _Aw dang, I'm so stupid_. Sam seemed to realize exactly what Anna had been dreaming about. Anna realized that she'd probably just made Sam feel majorly guilty. She watched his shoulders sag, and she tried not to sigh in relief as he replaced the gun on the dresser. _Just a dream, Anna. Just and honest-to-goodness nightmare_. She knew they were both avoiding the other's gaze.

The silence was incredibly awkward.

And Anna noticed that Sam didn't meet her eyes as he muttered.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" she asked quietly. Then Sam lifted his gaze, and she saw the guilt there in his eyes. "Sam," she began, curling the blanket around her as she sat up on the floor by the bed, "there's no need to be sorry. It was an honest mistake. I want you to forget it, ok? I have." She rolled her eyes when Sam raised a skeptical eyebrow at her. "Ugh, ok, so I haven't quite yet, but I _will_ forget it. And I know I can trust you." She motioned for Sam to come over, and he sat down beside her. "And you can trust me, ok?" she added. Sam smiled.

"Yeah," he agreed.

And with that, the near fatal events of the night before were indeed forgotten by both parties.

Dean opened the door from his shower, feeling ridiculously better than he should have felt considering the beating he'd taken only fourteen hours previously. Sure, he was still sore, and he had a bruise the size of Texas on the right side of his face, but he felt rested enough to be getting on with.

It was strange, therefore, that as soon as he stepped out of the bathroom and into the motel room, he suddenly felt very different. His face suddenly hurt more, and as he saw Sam sitting beside pajama-clad Anna on the floor beside the bed, _What the heck are they doing?_, he felt a hot swoop of some unfamiliar feeling make itself known in the center of his chest. As they both told him good morning, Dean realized that his face was hurting because his jaw was clenched unusually hard. He loosened his mouth immediately. He also noticed that as soon as Anna flashed him a smile, the hot swoop went away. He watched her go into the bathroom, his eyes widening as he categorized the feeling he'd just experienced. _Jealousy. _To avoid Sam reading his eyes, he moved over to his bed and rummaged through his bag for no real reason, suddenly disgusted with himself for actually getting jealous, and for no reason at all. _Wait, I don't get jealous! Holy heck, what has this girl got me on?!_ He shook his head, choosing to ignore the issue rather than acknowledge the fact.

And that was when he noticed the doughnuts. His tilted his head to the side, moving to the dresser to grab the still half-full box. His eyes widened and his face grew serious as he turned to Sam.

"Dude, what is this?" Dean demanded. Sam looked up from his laptop, which he had pulled out just moments before and was already preparing to do research on.

"Uh, doughnuts," Sam replied in a tone that clearly said 'You're an idiot if you don't know what those are, you dope'. Dean closed his eyes briefly before responding, still serious.

"Yeah, Einstein, I got that, but how did they get here?" Sam had obviously been prepared to respond with a sarcastic remark about flour, factories, and delivery trucks, but he stopped himself when he realized what Dean was talking about. The brown-haired hunter turned back to his laptop, probably wanting to hide the wince he would have on his face when Dean reacted to what he said next.

"I, uh," Sam hesitated, then let it all out in a rush, "I went out to get 'em before you woke up-"

"YOU WHAT?" Sam was spared from answering for a moment as they both paused upon hearing the unmistakable sound of something dropping in the shower. Anna had no doubt dropped the shampoo when she heard Dean's yell. But then the eldest Winchester was fuming once more. Sam attempted to divert the impending argument.

"Dean-"

"What the freakin' heck did you think you were doing?! You left _again_, without waking me, without telling me? After last night, you went out _alone_?! I mean, what_ is_ that, Sam?!"

"Dea-"

"You nearly got killed last night, man! You got jumped just feet outside the dang door! What, once isn't enough?"

"I-"

"You pull a stunt like that again, Sam, and I swear-" The bathroom door swung open just then, and Dean was momentarily distracted by the sight of Anna in a towel.

"What on earth is everybody yelling about?!" Anna demanded, seeing both Winchester's standing and facing each other.

Dean honestly could not answer her. He truly had forgotten the reason for his yelling. The only thought his mind currently had space for was how wonderfully thankful he was to whoever it was in history that had set the standard for towel size. He stared, blinking, before he unwillingly ripped his eyes away to remind himself that he was supposed to be mad at Sam. He stumbled over his words for a second, noting that Sam was staring at the girl's wet skin, too.

"Dziah…um, Sam went out to buy doughnuts this morning," he continued when Anna seemed confused, "_before_ we woke up." Now Anna looked like she got it. Dean was surprised, however, at her reaction. She turned to face the younger brother, her entire body communicating disapproval, and that disapproval was very clear considering the amount of her body that was visible.

"YOU WHAT?" she shouted, sounding so much like Dean that he would've laughed if he hadn't just remembered to be mad. Sam meanwhile, was looking incredulous.

"What in the world did you think you were doing?! You left _again_ without telling your brother? After what happened last night, you left _alone_? Are you _insane_?!" It was a miracle the towel managed to stay in place with the way that Anna was moving her arms up and down. Sam's mouth was slightly open while Anna continued, repeating Dean's words almost exactly.

"You nearly got killed last night, Sam! You were jumped just outside the door! Is once not enough for you? I mean, what the heck _is_ that, Sam?"

Sam was looking really weirded out now. Then again, Dean was kinda freaked too.

"Okay," Sam said to Dean, "That was weird."

"What are you talking about?" Anna asked. Dean supplied the answer, sounding almost amused.

"Well, you pretty much just repeated exactly what I told him."

"Oh," was all she said before she went back into the bathroom to change.

"Oh," was all Anna could think of to say before she went back to the bathroom to change. Before the door could close, a t-shirt and pair of sweat pants hit her in the back of the head. She grinned and rolled her eyes, picked up the clothes as Dean pretended he had done nothing out of the ordinary, and she left the boys to finish their fight.

She spent an extra moment in the bathroom just to take in the amazing scent of Dean's clothes.

Dean had scolded a bit more, and Sam had apologized by the time Anna was dried and changed. Dean had also told Sam that he wasn't leaving the motel room again so long as they were in Ohio, and that if he had to tie him up and shut him in the closet he would, but no way was Dean letting Sam go anywhere alone for the next five hundred miles. Anna had laughed when she heard that.

Dean had mentioned that it was nearly 9:00 now, and he was pretty darn hungry. Anna agreed, but Sam seemed to have had his fill on a sandwich he'd gotten when he bought the doughnuts; Dean had griped some more about that.

9:30 saw Anna following Dean to the Impala to go get some food. Dean had locked Sam in, insisting that if he left the room, he'd never walk again. Sam had assured them that he'd be researching the whole time.

Before they'd left, Sam had asked Dean when he should expect them back.

Dean took one look at Anna in his clothes.

He told Sam he'd call him later and let him know. When Sam had muttered something akin to 'play nice,' Dean had smacked him in the head.

The sandy-haired brother was driving the Impala out of the parking lot with the dark-haired girl in the passenger seat. He liked the way she looked in his t-shirt. He noticed that once she had bowed her head and inhaled against the sleeve. He hoped to god that he smelled good.

Anna thanked god for making that boy smell so good.

They drove for twenty minutes in either direction, but found only an out of business McDonald's. They'd passed a bar twice now, and Anna wondered if Dean was just ignoring it because she was with him. That bugged her. She didn't mind bars.

Dean wasn't sure if taking Anna to a semi-questionable looking bar would count as making him look cheap, _Why do I even care?!, _so he passed it up. He ignored it the second time too, _No, really - why the heck do I stinkin' care_!?!, but there was just no place to eat in this dang town. He was seriously considering calling Sam and asking him how the heck he'd found a place that sold sandwiches when Anna solved the problem for him.

"Dean, that bar's coming up ahead. The sign said they had onion rings."

Dean thanked every god he knew the name of for this girl.

Anna thanked every god she knew the name of for these onion rings.

They had entered the bar to the stares of the few people within. Bruises and mismatched clothes aside, however, they must not have seemed too strange, because the bartender addressed them naturally enough.

"What'll it be?"

"Two beers, and two burgers with onion rings," Dean's response was automatic. He looked surprised when Anna stopped the bartender.

"Make that one beer," she corrected, giving Dean's blank expression a small smirk, "I'll have a ginger ale."

Dean looked like he'd just been told there is no Easter Bunny.

Anna smirked happily again.

Dean was pretty much floored.

"You don't drink?" he asked weakly. He watched as Anna accepted her glass with a 'thank you.'

"Does it matter?" she asked before she took a sip. She was looking at him way too innocently to be believable.

"Why didn't you say something, we didn't have to come here," he suddenly felt rude and cheap again.

"I did say something," Anna insisted, "I said 'I'll have a ginger ale.'" She was grinning now.

When Dean still seemed unsure, Anna put down her soda and spoke to him firmly.

"Look, I have absolutely no problem with people who drink. I just don't drink myself. One hangover was more than enough for me," she was relieved when Dean finally grinned, "so it's not a biggy. I'm fine."

The onion rings were thoroughly delicious.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

The onion rings were devoured and the burgers were half-gone. Dean was on his second beer and Anna was on her second ginger ale. They'd talked about food, music, and were in the act of exhausting the subject of action flicks when silence fell for a moment as Anna took another bite and Dean looked contemplative.

Anna finished chewing and her brow began to furrow. Dean was looking at her funny. He averted his eyes at her glance, and gazed instead at her half-full glass of carbonated drink. Mistaking his sudden quiet for solemnity, Anna rolled her eyes and swallowed before speaking somewhat exasperatedly.

"Dean, stop it; I told you I don't care if you drink or if we're at a stinkin' bar-"

"No," Dean corrected, a small grin sneaking into his expression. His hand came up and he motioned that she had it wrong, "I know; it's not that. I just…I mean…""What?" Anna asked, doing a mental check of herself, panicking slightly when she considered all the things that could be wrong. _Food in teeth? No. Foot in mouth? Don't think so. Oh my gosh, do I smell? _But Dean's answer was so far from whatever she might have expected that it quite took her by surprise.

Dean didn't know what was wrong with him.

If he was being honest with himself, he was having a good time. If he was being honest, he found Anna to be downright amazing. But if he was being honest with himself, he knew he couldn't let go of that niggling thought, the question that was stewing in the back of his mind. He'd tried to ask it before, in the store last night, but it was kind of a deep place to go, and he wasn't sure if he liked how comfortable he was willing to be with this girl. It didn't make any sense; his suave had melted, his guard had dropped, and here he was finding himself ready to be real with Anna Walker for the second time in twenty four hours.

Dangit, he needed another beer.

"What?" Anna asked, looking for all the world like she thought she had something on her face. Dean gave up, figuring that if he was screwing his macho, then he might as well cough up his thoughts.

"It's just," Dean began, feeling like such a girl, "I just can't get over it," he stated lamely. Anna just looked confused.

"Get over what?""_You_. You and your music and movies and ginger ale. You live in a Californian suburb, you go to community college, you work at a clothing store and you wash your own clothes. I'm surprised you don't have a dog named spot!" Anna raised her eyebrows at that, clearly not getting his meaning. Dean looked away, trying to find some way to articulate, "I dunno Anna. You just seem so…normal." It seemed the right assessment. To say Anna was ordinary didn't fit, and to say she was average was absolutely ridiculous; she was anything but average. But Anna wasn't a hunter, her parents hadn't been killed by a supernatural evil, she wasn't doomed to a life lacking innocence and a home; she was normal. Dean continued, "You're such a perfectly sane person, with a name and a family and a life to live, and all of the sudden you get visions and have dreams and pop up in Ohio! I mean, it - I don't…" He looked at her, and her wide brown eyes told him that he had her full attention. He tried not to get lost in those eyes as he finished with a frustrated sigh. "It doesn't seem right. Or fair. Someone so good…you shouldn't have to be here. You shouldn't have to do this," he took a breath before he finally said with the smallest of half-smiles, "How does something like this happen to a person as normal as you?" Dean wasn't normal, he'd never been normal, and he knew it. Normal people were happy and fine and didn't have to face the evils of the world. Normal was a blessing, a lucky break. Dean might as well be cursed. His luck was a twisted kind of fate that allowed him to live until the next fight, the next hunt. But Anna…Anna deserved normal. That much he could tell.

She gave a small sigh, as if frustrated, but not frustrated with Dean as much as the subject. She faced the bar and looked into her drink and at the wall alternately as she spoke.

"Nobody's normal, Dean," she insisted, "I'm always telling Brian that…" Dean stopped hearing what was being said. There it was again, that Brian guy. Anna seemed to register a change in his expression, which Dean mentally kicked himself for, so she stopped whatever it was she had been saying. Before she could ask, Dean spoke nonchalantly, as if he didn't care.

"You been dating him a long time?" he asked, feeling he already knew the answer. Anna looked at him blankly.

"Who?"

"Brian," Dean said, raising an eyebrow. He was surprised when Anna laughed outright.

"Brian?! Oh my gosh, no! Are you kidding?" Dean was confused. Anna seemed to sense it, because she explained between chuckles, "No, Brian's my best friend, like a brother to me. I don't have a boyfriend."

Needless to say, Dean perked up considerably.

Then Anna said something that Dean would never forget as long as he lived. Even longer, maybe.

"But I'm always telling him," Anna said, "that 'normal' people are pretty much a myth, because nobody's really normal. I mean, I know people say that a lot, but I don't think most realize that it really is true," she looked like she was struggling to explain the way she wanted, "It's impossible to be normal. I mean, everything about us is the opposite of normal. _Life_ isn't normal. It's too complicated. Everyone wants normal or wishes for normal in their lives, but what they really want is for things to be easy, or simple. But everything about life is just _not that way_. I mean, life is so hard. But nobody has it easy all the time. The things we say or do, cause or feel the effect of – it's all so difficult, I mean…" she seemed to cast her mind around for an example, "Like, love isn't normal; it's too crazy. It's hard to understand or even find, it's hard to hide but no one wants to say it out loud when they feel it. It hurts so much yet it's the best feeling in the world. Or death; death is not normal. I mean, everybody dies, but everybody cries when it happens. The separation, the finality, the nothingness of it – it just…feels wrong. And we only want things to be _right_. Gosh, even the division between good and evil; right and wrong aren't _normal_. People wish everyday for the absence of evil, for crime to just go away. But if we were to walk into a town of absolute perfection, where nothing goes wrong or no one is unhappy, we'd freak! The Stepford thing would scare the heck out of us. _You_'d probably start shooting the place up or something," She smiled at him and then sighed once more, "Look, I know you don't live a 'normal' life, Dean, and I know that you've seen some of the most abnormal things out there, but it's not like I'm that normal either. _Nobody_ is normal. You just can't be, not if you have life in you, because life itself is so unexplainable and unpredictable that it breaks barriers and abandons expectations all the time. So, if you think about it, if nobody's normal, then you fit right in with me in my suburbs and ginger ale, Dean. You may not be 'normal' by definition, but it doesn't make you any less of a person; in fact, it lets you know you're really alive. And just so you know, I think that if anyone deserves normal – if_ anybody_ should have easy and simple and perfect happiness, it's you, Dean; you and Sam, because there's nobody as truly deserving of good things as you guys, and I mean that with everything in me, Dean." She shook her head as she went on, "Thank god you're not normal. If you were, I wouldn't be alive. A lot of people wouldn't. So don't feel bad because you think _I_ miss being normal. I don't _want _normal. I've never really _been_ normal. Besides," she added, grinning fully now, meeting Dean's awed gaze and catching his face lightly with her hand, "if I were 'normal', I'd never have met you. How happy could I possibly be if that were the case?"

Sam had sat in front of the laptop, fully engaged in his researcher's mode. He'd copied page after page of internet encyclopedia look-ups or full-text readings. He'd found names, orders, hierarchies of demons that had anything to do with inter-dimensional dealings. He'd looked up what he could of The Key of Solomon, other Apocrypha books, and marked anything he could find in dad's journal about teleportation and travel between space or time.

Thus far, he was no closer to any answers than he had been the night before.

It wasn't until he got up to use the restroom that he glanced at the time, and he was shocked to see that the clock read 2:00AM. Dean and Anna had been out to 'eat' for nearly five hours.He'd just been about to call Dean and make sure they were okay when his cell phone rang. Sam was surprised to find that it wasn't a call at all, but a text from his brother.

_Sam. We're fine. Don't wait up, we'll probably see you in the morning. Dean._

Sam stared at the phone's tiny screen. Since when did Dean send text messages? What was he doing that he couldn't stand to talk…_Oh. Right._ Sam rolled his eyes but grinned nonetheless before going back to his computer, thinking that at least his brother was finally acting like himself.

He wondered for a moment whether or not Anna was used to acting the same way.

He went back to reading. His eyes found a particularly interesting page, and as he absorbed the information on it, his mouth fell open and his eyes widened ridiculously.

The words hit him like a truck.

He rushed to confirm the hypothesis that the new info had begun in his mind, and he hoped that Dean had enough fun tonight to last him for a while, because if Sam was right, then there would be nothing but bad news from the next morning on.

At the sight of Dean's suddenly stricken face, Anna had stopped talking. Upon his question about whether or not she was dating Brian, she'd laughed out loud.

It pleased her to no end that Dean had seemed much happier after her admission of having no boyfriend.

And she meant every word she had said during her little speech about being 'normal.'

They had continued talking like nothing incredibly deep had been said, neither one uncomfortable. They talked for hours until the bartender had to ask them to leave, and when they got to the Impala, they talked some more. Anna couldn't remember ever dreaming about Dean talking this much to anyone, and she was sure that he wasn't in the habit of it. It seemed out of character for him, but she was finding that Dean had a whole new character that he revealed when he was with someone he trusted.

Her heart swelled at the thought of her being one of those few people.

They'd driven back to the motel, but they hadn't gone back inside. They sat in the car, listening to music or discussing movie plots until the sun began to peek over the horizon.

There was never a moment of awkward silence.

There was hardly any silence at all.T

hen they began to talk about cars, and that was when Anna let it slip.

She'd been describing the different cars she'd owned, and she had talked about the car she had at home.

"…and the dealer had offered one with a stick, but I don't know how to drive stick, so I really wanted an automatic-"

"What?" Dean looked floored. Anna raised her eyebrows at his tone. He sounded almost angry.

"Uh, I said I wanted an automatic…"

"No, before that." Anna tilted her head to one side, confused.

"Um," she thought, "The dealer had a stick shift, but I don't know…how to…" her eyes grew round, "Oh." She got it now. She'd just admitted that she didn't know how to drive stick.

The Impala was a stick-shift.

She'd driven the Impala last night. Like a maniac.

Now Dean knew why.

She cringed for the eruption, but Dean just looked utterly horrified.

"BUT YOU DROVE MY CAR!" he looked extremely incredulous, but more fearful that his car might suddenly reveal an injury it had suffered while under the madwoman's steering. "You – you - and you didn't, you couldn't…are you _insane_?!" He was protectively shielding the steering wheel with his arms, and he looked like he'd just been shot, his face was so pale.

"Dean, I-"

"You don't know how to drive?!"

"Of course I know how to drive you idiot! Just not stick…"

"ANNA-!"

"Look, you were hurt, Sam was loony and I knew enough that if I kept a constant speed I could stay in one gear. It wasn't that hard!" Dean looked like he might hit something. He muttered something about 'stubborn' and 'hurt my baby,' before he just shook his head and sent Anna a glare that should have killed her on the spot.

"That's it," Dean stated, opening his door and coming around to Anna's side. Anna's eyes were wide and she looked askance at Dean as he opened her door.

"What -?" she began to ask, scared that she might have just killed the mood for good. Dean answered, still not happy looking, but definitely not as angry with her as she'd anticipated.

"Get in the driver's side; you're getting driving lessons _right now_."

Anna obeyed, bewildered, as Dean shook his head and kept muttering about his precious car.

Dean had been furious, then horrified, then even more horrified. To think that his baby had been in the hands of an inexperienced, unqualified, reckless _insane_ person; it was awful. Any other time, and he would've been shouting his head off. Any other person, and he would have made sure that they never came near his baby again. Anyone but Anna, and he would have had the assurance of knowing that there would never be another occasion when his car would have to be driven by the third party.

But knowing his luck, he was bound to get stuck with the psycho-woman driver sometime again before this job was done. Judging from the recent past, trouble surrounded Anna, and that meant fights and injuries, and though it would take severed limbs to make Dean allow her to drive the Impala again, he knew that it would be better for him and his car if he was prepared.

He decided then and there that he was going to teach Anna to drive properly.

He got her into the beloved driver's seat, and he squatted beside her, ready to instruct, muttering still about speed limits and accelerators.

_This girl is gonna be the death of me, I swear!_

It had started with Dean squatting beside the car's open door next to Anna. He'd insisted that there was no way she was going another day without knowing how to "properly care for" the Impala. He gave her the general information, a demonstration, and then watched her like a hawk as she attempted with near success, driving around the motel's parking lot.

When it became obvious that she was having the most trouble with shifting into second gear, they stopped the car, and Dean came around to her side again. His good humor had returned; at least most of it. He still seemed apprehensive whenever she touched the steering wheel, but he was grinning now that the ignition was off.

She doubted that Dean had ever thought for this to be more than simple driving lessons. It wasn't really panned to end up leading to where it did.

Not that Anna complained, of course.

As the door sat propped open, Dean leaned his leg against the edge of the seat, and Anna found herself just the tiniest bit distracted by his close proximity. With the sun half-risen over the horizon, the light cast a subtle glow on everything, and it made Dean's features seem more smooth and warm. If she could just touch his skin…

"Like this?" she asked, trying to shift the way he was telling her to. The technique was a little confusing.

"No, you gotta really pull, like, with a quick jerk. Like this." He motioned with his arm. Anna tried not to notice his muscles flexing beneath his jacket.

"Okay," she said. She tried to mimic the move, and was frustrated to still get stuck half-way, "Dangit. What am I doing wrong?"

"Here," he surprised her, lifting her like she was nothing and sitting himself on the seat, placing her weight on his lap. He reached around her and grasped her hand, moving her hand to move the stick shift, "like this." His voice was lowered, as if he was trying to be so incredibly tempting, and his hand guided hers and he helped her pull the stick-shift back.

It was all Anna could do to remember to keep breathing.

She felt Dean's left hand on her left side, felt the even rhythm of his breathing against her back, felt his strong legs beneath her own. She could feel his chin just a centimeter from resting against her right shoulder, and his hand was still upon hers. His warm breath tickled her right hear as he spoke barely above a whisper, and she wondered fleetingly if he was doing it on purpose.

She tried to keep her own breathing steady as the silence fell in the Impala, and she wished that she could know what he was thinking. She hoped it was about more than the car.

_I could twist her and fall back with her on top of me, but I might make her hit the steering wheel. I could push her down first and then crawl over, but then she'd __**really**__ hit the steering wheel. I could get out first and move, but it'd take too long and ruin the mood. There's just not enough room in this danged front seat! If I could get us in the back…_

Dean was very glad he could multi-task. Whispering seductively in Anna's ear about shifting to second gear and contemplating the best way to get into the comfortable back seat at the same time was quite an accomplishment. However, it'd be much more rewarding if he could figure out a way to get into the back seat at all.

_Maybe I could…_

Anna watched as Dean's right hand slowly made its way from her right hand to just above the crook of her elbow. His fingers traced lines up her arms and they glided softly on her skin. His other hand, meanwhile, was traveling south, reaching down her side to her rest on her left leg. She felt her own left arm lift slightly, allowing him the space he needed to maneuver, and she pressed against him as he did the same. He was still whispering, his voice deep and husky, and as he leaned in, she felt sure he would kiss her. Maybe more. She turned her head slightly until her face and Dean's were almost meeting, and waited for him to make a move.

Any move.

_Move, dangit!_

It occurred to her that even if he did move, she didn't know where he would move to; there was definitely not nearly enough room in the front seat for what she was hoping for.

Just as Dean ran out of words to say, the impending silence was usurped by an almighty sound, like a dying goose with a bullhorn.

Anna jumped, and so did Dean. They tumbled out of the open door, landing none too gracefully in a startled heap beside the Impala, which they hadn't realized was parked in front of the parking lot's exit, and was now being honked continuously at by an impatient tenant in a green Sudan who wished to leave.

Dean's surprised words were muffled as he got up, looking shocked and slightly taken aback. Anna knew she just looked annoyed and disappointed.

Dean jumped up off of the ground, waving an embarrassed apology to the crabby looking driver behind his car, and grumbling to himself as he saw Anna walk to wait near the room. She looked disappointed, which both pleased him and frustrated him immensely. He was still muttering as he moved the car out of the way so that the other car could exit, and by the time he parked in an actual space and met Anna outside of the room, he knew that there would be no getting what he'd been hoping for; at least not now. His slightly sheepish expression and apologetic shrug elicited a small laugh and an understanding, albeit longing smile from the girl. He sighed as he pulled out the door's key, noting that the tag read '22' as did the door, and twisted it in the lock.He heard Anna sigh too, but as he opened the literal door into the motel room, he secretly hoped that she hadn't closed the figurative door on him yet.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Sam looked a mess when they got inside.

His hair was all over the place, sticking up on one side like he'd been running his right hand through it too many times. His forehead was creased with worry lines and he was flitting around the room, flipping through pages in his dad's journal, leafing through printed research covering his bed, clicking through sites on the laptop on the table, and muttering to himself every so often, as if trying to solve some crucial mystery.

Anna could only raise an eyebrow and stare slightly openmouthed at Sam's anxious appearance, more than a little surprised. She half-glanced at Dean, seeing the automatic concern on his face, but before either of them could say anything, Sam realized they'd returned.

"Dean," the relieved expression on Sam's face was short lived, "Dangit, it's about time!"

"Sam, what's wrong?" Dean asked hurriedly, still standing in the small entryway, but more alert, ready for action if it was required. Anna moved to sit on her bed, taking in the site of papers everywhere around the room. It looked like Sam had been busy.

It also looked like he was all researched out.

Sam took a deep breath, gazing around the room as if trying to figure out where to begin, and then let his breath out with a defeated sort of sigh, meeting Dean's eyes with a look of being completely overwhelmed. Anna looked from brother to brother, trying to grasp the sudden situation – Dean seemed to understand something that she didn't.

"You figured it out," Dean asked. It was actually more of a statement, not really a question at all. Sam seemed to sigh again.

"Not totally, but enough, yeah." There was a moment of silence. Anna waited until Dean spoke again, quieter this time.

"It's bad." Again, a statement. Sam merely nodded in response. And suddenly, Anna could grasp the situation quite clearly, because Sam had indeed been busy while she and Dean had spent the night out together. Sam had been researching a way to get her back home, to her dimension, and that meant he was trying to find out why she was here in the first place. Sam had figured it out.

And apparently, it was bad.

Dean was fairly certain that this was going to turn out to be another bad day.

He'd been interrupted at the most inopportune moment with Anna. That stupid driver of that stupid green Sudan had to honk his stupid horn, and that had pretty much sucked the fun out of the morning. It was obvious that a similar moment wasn't about to come again this afternoon or evening, because Sammy had some drastic revelation that he had yet to share with the class, and that was likely to push all things fun from everybody's minds. And, more importantly, Dean was now forced to wait to be clued in, because Sam wanted to shower before enlightening everybody to his probably awful discovery.

Great.

So as Sam rushed into the hot shower, after being warned by Dean not to use all the hot water, the sandy-haired hunter plopped down in one of the room's chairs, feeling tired again. He saw that Anna had fallen back on her bed with a sigh, clearly not looking forward to more of the inevitable bad news that she seemed to be receiving a lot of lately. She looked tired as well. Yup, there would definitely be no fun today.

Terrific.

But then again, if Dean thought about it, the worst part of the whole thing, whatever that thing would turn out to be, was that if it was bad, then that didn't mean bad for Sam. It didn't mean bad for Dean. It didn't mean bad for the hunt or bad for the dimension or bad for the fun stuff.

It meant bad for Anna. And that was something Dean really didn't want. He saw Anna try to fight her newfound sleepiness, but he silently willed her to simply sleep for a few minutes, if only so that he could watch her without inhibition for a moment. He wanted Anna to sleep, just for a little while, so that he could think to himself about the events of the last couple of nights, the things that had been said, or the things that had yet to be admitted.

As Anna fell into a slight sleep on her bed, as they both waited for Sam to come out of the shower and tell them whatever it was he'd found out, Dean decided that it was as good a time as any to admit it to himself. As he sat in the quiet, with only the sound of Anna's breathing evening out and the water running in the shower, he began to admit that something was happening.

Dean didn't know quite what it was. He didn't fully understand _why_ it was, but he felt a certain responsibility forming itself in his mind, a type of self-determined duty that he was now adding to his list that had formerly only included Sam; a protectiveness for Anna.

No, it was more than that. There was something distinct, something defining about this. He realized that even though he couldn't know for sure who she was, didn't know absolutely where she was from, or yet know why she was here – he wouldn't…_couldn't_ stop watching her. He really didn't understand why, but he needed to help her, watch her, watch over her. He knew that if he allowed any harm or hurt to fall upon that beautiful face, those precious eyes, that sacred soul; he would never forgive or forget it. The thought of her being gone from him was physical pain, and he knew that separation was now not an option. Trust, hope, peace – a variety of unfamiliar words now associated themselves with her.

Dean's eyes widened with a sudden epiphany, and sitting there in a stuffy motel room while watching her sleep, he knew. He acknowledged, recognized, accepted the truth that perhaps he had known from the moment he'd jumped into the line of Sammy's gunfire the night before last.

He knew – he would fight for Anna. He would _win_ for Anna. He would protect her and teach her, shield her and…die for her? _Yes_, he decided, _I would die for her. Just as I would for Sammy…does that make her like a sister? Is this what it's like to have a sister?...No_, came the conclusion. Dean knew that this wasn't a brotherly feeling, not anymore. She wasn't like a sister to him, because if Dean knew anything, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he didn't need a sister, he didn't want a sister, he didn't care like _this_ for a sister. He knew that he needed Anna, wanted Anna, cared for Anna, because he lov-

"Dean?"

The elder Winchester jerked out of his reverie, realizing that a just-showered Sam was standing behind the chair he sat in, hair still wet and eyes still absorbing the scene before him. Dean sat up straight, only now noticing that he had been leaning forward in his seat. He ripped his gaze away from the girl, grasping at something, anything to say to his ever observant brother. _Please_, Dean inwardly pleaded to no one in particular, _please don't let him notice, please don't let him read me like that_. Even if Dean hadn't said a word of what he'd been thinking out loud, he had still been _thinking_ it, and Sam seemed to have the uncanny ability to know exactly what Dean was thinking at exactly the worst moment in time. He stood quickly and faced his younger sibling, hating the look of confused concern he saw there, knowing that Sam's researcher's eyes would only take seconds to assess the situation.

"What?" Dean demanded, and he mentally kicked himself when he immediately heard how defensive he sounded. Sam just looked at him blankly.

"Man, were you asleep or something? I had to say your name like three times…" The inquiry trailed off as Sam's eyes moved to where Dean's had been resting moments before, searching for whatever it was that had held his brother's attention so closely. Dean cringed when he saw the movement, saw the realization dawn on Sam's face, and he knew he was so screwed. Those searching eyes widened ever so slightly as Sammy, to Dean's absolute horror, clearly realized whom his brother must have been watching, seeing that she was still asleep in her designated bed, arms over her head and hair spread out all over her pillow – the image of peace. Dean watched as Sam's eyes flicked back to him. The elder Winchester was trying to play the innocent – and failing, clearing his throat and feeling an awful heat rise in his cheeks. Before Sam could accuse him of anything, before his feeble attempt at a 'it's not what you think' face could give him away, Dean decided to skip playing it off and made a drastic attempt to change the subject.

"Did you, uh, save any hot water for Ann-_me_! ME, uh me, for me." A small false chuckle tried and failed to surface as Dean determined that this _really_ wasn't working, and he reverted to hasty escape, retreating, "I don't care, I'm gonna…just, I'm gonna…go…shower now."

The bathroom door couldn't close, lock, and block out Sammy's amused face fast enough.

_I just knew this was going to be a bad day…_

Sam had taken a deep breath before leaving the bathroom. Knowing that Dean would most likely be itching to have things explained to him _now_, Sam readied himself to drop the bomb.

He was surprised to see Dean so calm when he came into the room.

He was surprised that Dean didn't move at all, in fact.

Dude, was he even awake?

"Dean." Nothing. _Huh_. Sam was sure he was breathing…

"Dean?" he stepped forward, leaning around his seated brother, noting the glazed eyes, and focused expression. _What the…_

"Dean!"

"What?"

Sam raised his eyebrows when Dean practically leapt out of the chair, looking for all the world like he'd been caught in bed with a married woman. He sounded _defensive_, which was weird in the first place; embarrassment was not in Dean's dictionary. Sam stared at his older brother a bit blankly, knowing that something was up. Sam's eyes moved to where Dean's gaze would have rested a moment before, and searched for whatever could have held his brother's attention so closely. Sam felt his eyes widen ever so slightly as he figured out whom his brother must have been staring a so intently, watching with such interest. The brown-haired hunter flicked his eyes back to Dean who was playing the innocent with a 'dude, it's not what you think' face and failing to convince, clearing his throat and blushing – _Oh my god_, Sam thought, _Dean blushing?!_

Sam watched his older sibling's verbal fumbling with unbridled surprise and something close to hilarity as the older side-stepped the younger into the bathroom, closing the door faster than Sam would have thought possible.

Sam was left to simply stare at the bathroom door for a moment, marveling at his brother's sudden loss of cool, then he twisted to gaze at the unexpected cause of Dean's awkwardness. He vaguely wondered when it was in the last thirty-three hours that she had captivated Dean so completely. With a shake of his head and an amused grin, Sam reached for his laptop, sitting at the too small table and preparing to outline his explanation for when Dean came out of the shower.

It was a good thing Sam was smiling for the moment; there wouldn't be much to smile about in the coming hours.

_Dean blushing…kudos to Anna…_

Dean pulled a thin, scraggly towel over his short hair. Standing before the mirror that hung over the bathroom sink, he took a god look at himself. Wearing nothing but a pair of worn out jeans, he had to admit that he looked pretty darn good. He'd never admit it to Sam, but Dean really prided himself on maintaining his chiseled physique, even tan, and ever-perfect hair. He grinned his trademark smirk and winked jokingly at the studly reflection.

"Dean, you are one good-lookin' guy."

The smile faded as the phrase 'stud-muffin' popped up in his mind for some stupid reason. _Ugh_. His expression became more of a grimace as he grabbed his t-shirt off of the towel rack. He knew that he was taking his time, going extra slow - he was stalling. He had no desire to face Sam and whatever remarks were bound to be made in light of Dean's loss of cool twenty minutes ago. _Oh man_, he thought, _if he says something in front of her-_

The elder Winchester stopped himself and blinked. _What am I, twelve?_ It didn't make any sense that he should care about this. Sam always saw Dean hitting on girls. It was part of Dean's personality, and one of his favorite pastimes. Why should this little fling be any different? Why would Sam have reason to say anything at all? _You know why_, he told himself, _this isn't like the usual program_. He gazed into the mirror at his reflection once more, and he found that he no longer recognized the man he saw there. _What are you doing, Dean?_ He inquired the silent question of his mirror image, _You can't keep this up. You can't afford to-_ he lowered his thought voice, as if afraid that even thinking the words might let others know – _to fall for anyone. Much less that particular one. She has a home, a family, an entire world of her own that you don't belong to, and you know you can't join her there. She has it all already_…Or did she? Here, Anna had nothing; she didn't even exist. _But she won't stay here. She has to go back. She may not exist, but in her world, neither do you_. Anna couldn't stay with them, Dean knew that. They would find a way to get her home, solve this puzzle, and everything would go back to normal.

_Normal_, Dean thought, _what do I know about normal. I could never be that…_

'_Nobody's normal, Dean._' He remembered the faraway look that had been in her eyes as she had spoken so surely last night. '_Life isn't normal…love isn't normal._'

Dean took a deep breath and wondered if he was really ready to believe that.

The frown on Sam's face slowly grew more and more pronounced as he continued to read the webpage that was currently taking up the space on his laptop. He didn't like what he was seeing, and he certainly wasn't looking forward to updating the others on the newfound info.

The sound of the shower's running water had ended a while ago, and Dam sensed that his brother was purposely taking his time to come from the bathroom, no doubt wishing to avoid for as long as possible any remarks the younger Winchester might make.

He needn't have worried. Sam was all too distracted by the articles on his laptop to tease Dean. In fact, it made the younger a bit relieved to see Dean acting, and possibly feeling, so _normal_.

What Sam would give be normal right now.

He brought up the pages that explained his findings, and he waited for Dean to come out, ready to let him and Anna know just what, or _who_ it was they were facing.

Anna had awoken when the shower had stopped running water, but she was just so tired that she didn't bother to sit up.

Besides, she didn't want any more bad news.

She gave a sigh and stood up, feeling that a shower would be nice, but the hot water was probably all gone, and they probably didn't have time anyway.

Sam's discovery couldn't wait for too long.

When Dean came out of the bathroom, fully dressed and clean smelling, she had the sense that she had once again missed something. Dean had stared at Sam with an odd expression on his face, as if expecting something that he wasn't receiving. Sam, meanwhile, hadn't met his brother's gaze at all, but averted his eyes to examine the suddenly very interesting table, a quiet grin creeping into his face.

Dean half-sighed, half-growled and moved to sit on the edge of the Anna's bed, which was right beside the table Sam sat at. Anna unceremoniously plopped herself beside him, resigning herself to grim revelations.

After a moment of silence, in which everyone silently admitted to themselves that they were so not ready for this, but they didn't really have a choice but to face it and try to tackle it; Sam began.

"Okay, I'm gonna try to explain this, but I need you guys to read a couple of these passages before I do. The first is from an online encyclopedia on general demon information; the second is from a book based on the _Key of Solomon_ that goes in depth on the identity of specific demons."

Anna and Dean stared. Sam was gesturing to the laptop, waiting for the reading to begin. Anna didn't know about Dean, but she was waiting for the reality that this was in fact a demon problem to sink in. It took a few moments, but she was the first to find her voice. It was lodged somewhere near the bottom of her chest cavity, however, so she couldn't really use it. Dean found his voice soon after, though, so Anna merely watched as he spoke.

"So this _is_ a demon problem." Not really a question, but hey.

"Yup," came Sam's unenthusiastic reply.

"And you know what the problem is."

"Yup."

"And you can explain it to us, but we have to _read_ first?" A real question that time.

"Yup."

"Well that sucks." At that, Anna managed to un-lodge her voice.

"Ha, the demon or the reading, Dean?"

"Uh…"

"Look, guys," Sam interrupted, "no joke, you have to read this. It might be a little lengthy and probably boring, but you won't get what's happening unless you read 'em."

So they did.

And that was when things started heading downhill for everybody.

You could say it was the beginning of the end.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

It really didn't make sense that this should've come as such a surprise. They'd suspected since her appearance that this was somehow connected to the demon. They'd determined that since demons tended to have various powers, teleportation wouldn't be surprising, and inter-dimensional movement wouldn't be too much of a stretch. It only made sense that since she had the dreams, visions, and psychic connection to the Winchesters, she probably had the attention of the yellow-eyed being.

But that didn't mean she had to like it.

Now, with Sam's assertion, it made the conclusion that much more real, and the danger seemed that much closer. In reality, it had been the fact all the long, and the danger had always been there.

But last night, with Dean, it hadn't seemed like it.

Anna leaned forward apprehensively, not quite prepared for drastic revelations or hasty action. But she did as she was told, knowing that this had to be resolved. Leaning toward the laptop's bright screen, she gazed at the small text of an internet encyclopedia page titled 'Demon/Daemon(ology).' She didn't have to like it, but she knew that if they could figure this out, then they could fix it.

_Fix it…_Fixing it meant sending her back home, to her own dimension, her own world, where none of this was real or even alive. Back to school and work and her dad snoring on the couch and her mom's jewelry parties and her brother's fourth grade math homework. _Back to Dean just being a dream._

As Anna read, she knew that it wasn't just 'not liking' the situation that bothered her. It was the fact that she wasn't sure if she would really be happy if the situation was fixed.

Lots of people wished for a dream come true; Anna's dreams had been half-way nightmares, and they _had_ come true, and it had scared the heaping heck out of her.

But maybe she didn't want to wake up.

Dean sighed as Anna leaned forward in front of him toward the computer. He stood and leaned over her to read as well, one hand supporting him on the chair, the other resting unnoticed on the girl's back.

He knew this wasn't going to be fun, but he gritted his teeth and read the words. He noticed that some were underlined, no doubt showing that you could click on them for links to more info.

At first, it seemed like old news:

"_According to Christian tradition, demons (or _daemons_) can be fallen/evil __angels__, are __spiritual__immutable__, and __immortal__. Demons are not __omniscient__, but each one has a specific knowledge (sometimes on only one subject, sometimes on more than one). Their power is limited to that which __God__ allows, so they are not __omnipotent__. No reference has been made to __omnipresence__, so it is yet unclear if they can be in different places at the same time, but according to the tradition of the medieval witches' __Sabbath__, two conclusions can be reached: either __the Devil__ can be in different places at the same time, or he sends an emissary in his name, but it seems that the only 'omni' thing they are is malevolent; it is deducible from some passages of the _Bible_ that they are not omnipresent. Numerous _Apocrypha_ books suggest that to be in two or more places at once would result in their demise, much as a person cannot survive if cut in two._

_It is also believed that demons torment people during their life, like the case of __Job__ or through __possession__, causing disgraces and diseases, or simply showing themselves before the persons to frighten them, or by provoking visions that could induce people to sin__or to be afraid (__Luke__ 13:16; __Matthew__ 17:15-16). Demonic __supernatural__ powers are believed to include __Psychokinesis__Divination__Demonic possession__ESP__telepathy__, mind probing, and __curses__, as well as making __contracts__, and __provocation__. Demons use variants and combinations of these powers to harass, confuse, and disorient the victim, or the subject of demonic interest. Demons are believed to have power to physically or mentally hurt people; often demons are said to create negative emotions that cause innocents to wreak havoc, ensue chaos, and disrupt peace._

_Some demons are classified by domain, and the domain of each demon is different____Some demons only inhabit one dwelling or small stretch of land, while others reign over several pieces of time and space (see __dimensional dominion__). Some are restricted by boundry or by environment. For instance, demons of the night, which are black and evil, avoid daylight. Still, they can be invisible to people, especially demons of fire or fate."_

Dean blinked.

"Huh. 'Dimensional domain'…well that's…different."

Most of the rest had been review for him, but he thought that Anna had probably needed the brief summary of Demons 101. Sam voiced that thought when Dean looked expectantly in his direction.

"That was mostly for Anna," he shrugged, "the next thing is the really good stuff."Anna looked at him, a grim expression on her face.

"And by 'good' you mean 'thoroughly nasty and utterly terrible', right?" she asked resignedly.

"Yeah, pretty much," Sam replied.

"Oh joy."

Sam navigated through various sites until he found one that looked rather cheesy and too brightly colored to have anything to do with demons. When he settled halfway through a page of blue colored text that was supposedly from '_a reliable source you can purchase from most libraries for only $19.95! Click __here__ to find one near you!_' Dean couldn't help the look of skepticism he gave his brother. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I know, but this site had the biggest excerpt I could find. I think the site's mostly for stupid kids and the like, but the book is legit. I just wish they had the full text," he added in an ominous voice. Dean looked back at the screen, seeing Anna shaking her head before she set to reading.

"So what am I lookin' at Sammy?" Dean asked with another small sigh.

"A book on specific demon's names and their traits. This page should explain a lot, but…well, you'll see."

Dean didn't like the tone Sam was using. It was edgy, like he was dreading something._T_

_hat's reassuring_, Dean thought sarcastically.

The too-sweet website page was happily titled 'Chapter 22: Meet Telemuchus'.

_Gimme a break_, Dean thought before he read again.

"_Temeluchus' name is sometimes rendered as Amon, Aamon, Abolom, Botis, Barbatos, Cerenus, Demogorgon, Gusion, Gremory, or Eligos, and can be translated to Ipos, Bathin, Vassago, Yeter'el, Sonnilon, Glasya or Labolas, depending on the language. Synonomous with the powerful demon Berith, who is in charge of murder, hate, and blasphemy, Temeluchus' name is also said to be interchangeable with Belphegor. _

_His name, or names, is/are of such significance because these particular names all have specific tales of destruction that they are known for throughout canonical and extracanonical books. _The Testament of SolomonThe Key of SolomonThe Apocalypse of PeterThe Apocalypse of Paul_, and several _Apocrypha_ books make reference to these demonic names and the destruction and suffering they create. One says that the serpent of old that tempted Eve was not actually Satan himself, but in fact a demon named Cerenus (one of Temeluchus' names), who made a deal with God to tempt Eve in exchange for liberation from the pit. Is it supposed that these numerous demon names are actually describing one entity: Temeluchus._

_Described as a merciless angel, all fire, he chooses specific victims for life, setting himself over children at birth or during infancy. He is a transporter, and has a knowledge of numerology that he uses to his advantage often (__22__). He knows and can reveal all things in the future to men, but cannot change it himself and so strives often to force or fool men into making change for him. The demon of prophecy, he discovers hidden things and attracts important persons, gaining the minds of friends and foes alike by breaking them through traumatic experiences. He often incites homicide, and is known for making deals. _

_As aforementioned, transportation is one of his stronger powers, but it is unclear how far he is able to transport himself, and if his movement is limited by dimension or load. Based on textual account and minor speculation, it is supposed that if Temeluchus is in fact able to travel through the dimensions of space, time, or otherwise, then he would be able to transport a load of material or human type. Of course, the only reason…" Want to read more? Click __here__ to find a library near you!_

That last line was under the passage on a large green banner, and beneath that was another clickable banner flashing things like "_Find out how to conduct your own exorcism!…How to identify a demon!...Telemechus is the demon of April; find out why!"_

It was sickening. The whole thing was portrayed like big joke.

Dean couldn't think of anything less funny.

The demon of prophecy. The demon of murder. All fire. Chooses victims for life. Sets himself over children at infancy. Known for making deals. Breaks people through traumatic experiences. A transporter. And '_Of course, the only reason_…'

The demon was laid out for them here in plain writing. All they had ever needed to know was that he could go through the dimensions, and they would've had a way to find a full description at their fingertips.

A lot of good this did them now.

Dean stepped back, trying to swallow with his suddenly dry throat, and struggling to form words. Sam was looking at him, as if waiting for an explosion, and Anna had her hand over her mouth, looking like she might have fallen over had she not already been sitting down.

It didn't matter now that the website looked hokey or stupid. It didn't matter anymore that the type was blue or the banners were bright and cheesy.

Sam was right; this was not good news at all, because they knew something now. They knew that the demon had to have brought Anna along on a little inter-dimensional trip. They knew that this book, whether the internet took it seriously or not, told '_the only reason'_ for this kind of thing to happen.

They knew that they needed to know what the reason was, and everything would piece itself together.

Dangit, they need to know that reason _now_.

Suddenly, Dean understood the full meaning of Sam's earlier words when he had said this was bad. He realized now that Sam hadn't meant that the demon was particularly bad – they'd always known that, this was just confirmation. He hadn't meant that this was going to end up being a big bad deal, or that it would take a big bad fight, or that there was some big bad danger – they'd known that too, regardless of denial or whatever. Dean knew that the worst part wasn't that whatever the 'only reason' was, whatever it turned out to be, it was going to be bad. The worst part wasn't that something bad was no doubt trying to happen to Anna. The worst part wasn't that the book had thus far described who the demon was, and probably could describe what it wanted and why it was doing this.

The worst part was that it hadn't mentioned a way to stop it.

And that was definitely bad.

Sam spent the next ten minutes basically summing up what the others already knew. The demon was the problem, and though they now understood how Anna had gotten here, they still needed to know why, and this book could tell them that. Of course, since the excerpt had chosen to end at such an incredibly cliché place, the 'why' was unavailable to them unless they drove thirty minutes away to the nearest library and found the book.

Which presented a dilemma Sam hadn't expected.

"We gotta go find out what this reason is. Now." He was already tossing the keys to Dean and grabbing his laptop off of the table. Anna was hurriedly slipping her shoes on and following Sam to the door. Dean however, though he caught the keys, stayed still, looking thoughtful.

"Sam," Dean's voice was quiet, almost like he didn't want to be talking at all.

"I mean," Sam was still talking, not having heard his brother, just rambling about the magnitude of trouble they might or might not be in, "It could be anything, but we have to know. I just don't know what we'll do when we know-"

"Sam-"

"- be okay, Anna, we'll figure it out-" They were almost out the door now. Dean was still rooted to his spot.

"_Sammy_…"

"-somehow…wait, where's Dean?"

"SAM!" Sam stopped with his hand on the doorknob. He moved past the half-divider that was blocking Dean from his view. Anna was looking from brother to brother. She was the only one who hadn't spoken yet. She seemed to think she was most helpful being silent.

"Dean, wh-what are you doing?" Sam realized that being so uptight had made him out of breath. He waited for Dean to respond, but the sandy-haired hunter was just staring at the car keys in his hand. The elder Winchester raised his eyes and looked at his brother. Fear was poorly masked in Dean's expression, and Sam was surprised by that.

"Dean," he asked, nonplussed, "what is it?" Dean ran a hand through his hair.

"Dude, I mean….let's just….hold on a second!" Dean looked a bit out of breath himself.

"Dean, we can't just sit around! The only reason we aren't there _now_ is because the library wouldn't have been open. We have to go!" Sam watched a bit incredulously as Dean began to shake his head. Anna was still silent and expressionless, but she too was staring at Dean.

"Naw man, I don't think that's the best idea-" Dean began.

"What are you talking about?"

"Think about it Sam!" the younger hunter was surprised that Dean suddenly looked angry, "She's been here two days already and nothing's come after her! In fact, the only supernatural thing that was around jumped you! Now that demon-jerk might have brought her here, but maybe-" he hesitated, then let it all out in a rush, "maybe it doesn't know it! Maybe it didn't do it on purpose, and it doesn't know she's here. And Sam, if that's the case, then - then the last thing we should do is go anywhere, because that dang demon is connected to _us_ somehow, and I think-" he looked at Anna once, before glancing back at Sam, "I think that being out in the open with us would only be putting her in even more danger. I think that being near us will only be hurting her chances…" Sam knew his eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open as Dean said his final words in a pained voice with his eyes on Anna,

"I think that we're only putting Anna in more danger. I think that the demon will know she's here if we're with her. I think she'd be safer without us."


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

"I think she'd be safer without us."

There was a long silence during which nobody moved, and everyone seemed to be holding their breath.

Sam stared at his older brother, not fully certain he'd heard correctly. He felt more than saw Anna's shoulder's slump beside him, and he knew her eyes were now downcast. For some reason, Sam was suddenly very irritated with his sibling.

"What are you talking about, Dean?" he tried not to sound exasperated and disbelieving, but that was just the way it came out. Dean wasn't looking at him anymore, and Sam couldn't understand why the sandy-haired hunter was looking so ashamed. He kept casting furtive glances over at Anna, but kept looking away again, as if he feared she might erupt at any moment. Sam continued to stare wide-eyed as Dean attempted to explain his reasoning.

"Sam," he began, sounding tired, "you said it yourself; we don't know what reason this demon could have for bringing her here. It could be some huge end-of-the-world deal, or it could be for some satanic kicks, but the point is that we don't know what the heck is going on, so we have to make sense of what we do know before we go running off and getting into huge-end-of-the-world trouble! Do you really think that if the demon had some crazy plan for Anna, that he would have left any of us alone for this long?" Dean was looking at Sam now, but it was Sam who now felt like averting his eyes. Dean continued, "Sammy, you _know_ we are on this demon's immediate radar the second we set foot outside of this salt and holy water filled room! And if that demon hasn't realized what happened yet, then I don't think we should be the ones to let it in on the secret, 'cause you know we aren't ready to take this thing down. Not now, Sam."

Sam just stood there, feeling as though he'd been wrong when he thought he would have been dropping the bomb by telling Dean and Anna about Temeluchus.

The real bomb had been dropped just now.

Sam closed his eyes momentarily, wondering why the heck Dean's ingeniously common-sensical revelations had to pop up at just the worst times in the world. He opened them and faced his brother, forcing himself to look calm and determined.

"Your right," he said, not missing the look of utter surprise that Dean offered and the soft curse that came from the girl to his left side, "she shouldn't leave the room."

Sam had expected Dean to simply agree with his agreement, but instead, Dean suddenly looked frantic.

"But – I – Sam!" Dean seemed ridiculously upset at Sam's declaration, and the younger Winchester couldn't fathom any reason for that.

"What, Dean?!"

"You can't-! We-I-but…" Dean looked at a loss for a moment, then he seemed all too sure of himself, "We can't just leave her alone! What if I'm wrong! What if the demon does know she's here! What if -"

"Dean!" Sam was reaching maximum frustration at this point, "This is _your_ idea!"

"I know, Sam, but my ideas don't always work out so great, ok!"

"Fine, then _you_ stay here and _I'll_ go by myself; that's the best way." It only made sense.

"No _way_ man, I am not letting you out of my sight! You are going nowhere without me backing you up!"

"So, what? _You're_ gonna go and _I'm_ gonna stay?"

"I JUST SAID I'M NOT LETTING YOU OUT OF MY-"

"DEAN, we either bring her with us or leave her here! You can't be in two places at once man! Dude, I know I'm your little brother, but I can take care of myself-"

"I don't CARE, Sam! I don't care if you can take care of yourself or not! The point is that if I'm not with you, then _I _can't take care of _you_!"

"So you'll leave her unprotected because you're worried about me-?!"

"NO WAY! I WILL _NOT_ LEAVE HER-"

"I DON'T SEE ANOTHER OPTION, DEAN!" the thunderous sound died down instantly, yet the tension in the small room only increased. Both brothers were breathing heavily, while Anna remained as she had throughout the shouting; silent and unmoving with her eyes lightly closed.

Dean was staring at her, and when he spoke again, the room's atmosphere was altered hugely, and suddenly it was filled not with tension but with fear and a pleading, desperate grasp at some form of hope.

"There _has_ to be, Sam," Dean insisted, his voice a mere whisper as he gazed at the girl who wouldn't meet his eyes, "There just has to be."

They sat, or stood rather, in the quiet that surrounded them, knowing that every moment they wasted gave the demon another second's worth of opportunity to follow through with whatever he had planned.

"Well there isn't, Dean." Sam was surprised by the sound of her voice; it seemed like ages since Anna had said anything, and now she was gazing intently at his older brother with a determined expression on her face and a commanding tone in her words. Sam gathered that Dean was as taken aback as he was.

"There _is_ no other option," Anna continued, and she was walking over to the older brother as she talked quietly but clearly, uninterrupted, "You were right; the demon knows where you are the moment you leave this room. All of us together is a dangerous move, and one of us alone is just as unsafe. But you _know_ you can protect this place, Dean, and you know that you can give me the proper tools to protect myself while you go and _do your stinkin' job_!" Her voice was wavering now, as if she might cry, and Sam was horrified and slightly awed to see that Dean looked as if he might do the same; he seemed stricken at Anna's words, and Sam knew that he had misjudged just how far his brother had fallen, "You need to go with Sam! You need to find out what's going on and you _know_ you guys work best together. And I will _not_ allow either of you to put yourselves in unnecessary danger because the demon might this or might that! And I'm not saying I'm not scared, because Dean I've never been more scared in my life than I've been these last two days, but-" her voice hitched softly, and Sam had to force himself not to look away from the unchecked fear in Dean's expression and the shaking of Anna's shoulders, "but Dean, I'd rather be scared for myself than scared for you."

Sam was struggling not to correct her and say that Dean didn't need to go with him, that Dean didn't need to protect him, that it wasn't his job, that Anna didn't have to stay alone; but when Dean wrapped his arms around the girl and they buried their faces into each other's shoulders, Anna crying softly, and Dean trying not to join her, Sam knew that his words would fall on deaf ears.

He knew that Dean would listen to Anna and go with him to the library, leaving the girl in the motel room with whatever protection they could give her.

He just didn't know if it was the right thing to do.

Dean had voiced his opinion as a sort of last ditch thought.

It had all happened so fast. One minute he was trying to figure out how to get her into the back seat of the Impala, and the next Sam was saying that the demon had some dark, secret reason for Anna's presence, and they needed to run to the library to find out what that reason was, or else they might bring on pain and death or worse for all of them. Dean had just stood there, knowing that there was something distinctly wrong about it all.

And then it finally came to him. Sort of.

The onslaught of information and hypothesis finally caught up to him, and he tried so hard to make sense of it, even at the risk hurting Anna. To say that she'd be better off without them was crap and he knew it – he couldn't leave her behind, and there was no better protection than Dean Winchester. But the facts were swimming in his head and mixing with the fears, and suddenly the frantic musings he was voicing were pointing into a direction he knew he didn't want to go, because he feared it more than he was willing to admit; he could be putting Anna in danger.

When Sam started to answer back, he wished he hadn't spoken at all.

The thought of Sam going anywhere without him, especially after such a close call; it make him feel sick. Just the smallest chance that anything might go wrong, as was bound to happen with Sam anyway because that's just the way things go, and that Dean might not be there to save him – no.

Not an option.

But then, there weren't very many options.

And Dean was faced with a dilemma. Stay, and let his brother walk out alone, without a partner to back him up, without a helper to pick him up, without a brother to keep him up; or leave, and close the door on Anna without knowing what would or wouldn't happen, without a friend to hold her hand, without a Winchester to guard her life, without Dean...just without him.

Dean was sure he had never let fear completely consume him as much as he was letting it now. He could tell from the look on Sammy's face that his expression showed it. He was shaking and he knew it. He was trying very hard not to give in, but it was becoming increasingly hard to breath regularly, and something hot was burning behind his eyes and in the back of his throat. He could tell from the tears in Anna's eyes that she was feeling it too. He could tell by the way she held him as he pulled her close that she was just as scared as he was, and he knew that even if he would've decided to eventually stay and let Sam go alone, even if Sam ended up trying to convince him to remain here and protect Anna; he would go. He knew he would do what Anna was telling him to do and go with Sam, if only because she asked him to.

He just didn't know if it was the right thing to do.

Anna sat and watched, mostly.

The only time she got up was when the guys moved the bed to place an incredibly large devil's trap beneath it. After they replaced the bed, she got back on and stayed there, just like Sam told her to. She watched at they drew on the ceiling, on the walls, the doors, windows, and even the bottoms of her flip-flops. She listened as Sam recited in languages she couldn't understand and didn't recognize. He said he was blessing the room, making it holy ground. She watched as Dean poured more salt than she'd ever seen in one place around the room, around the bed, then around the bed one more time for good measure. They put glue around the windows in circles, then put more salt on the glue. They put some sort of dark powder in the corners, next to little bags full of Anna-could-only-guess-what. They sprayed the placed up and down with holy water, until the carpet squelched when walked on, and the furniture glistened with the wetness. Sam went into the bathroom with an ancient-looking book written in Latin and a bottle of holy water to do some more blessing while Dean gave her a gun and showed her how to use it.

"…and move this to take off the safety. I think it's best if you don't have it on at all." Dean was sitting beside her, his hands over hers, moving her fingers to the proper positions on the firearm.

Anna couldn't help but be reminded of their earlier driving lessons, "You already know how to pull the trigger, but aiming has to come first…"

Anna paid close attention. She kept her eyes open, her hands steady, and aim sure as she practiced with the unloaded gun. It was heavy in her hands, just like she remembered, but this time it didn't frighten her; it comforted her.

"Here…" She turned to see Dean pulling his cell phone from his pocket, checking to make sure it was charged. He handed it to her, and she held the gun in one hand, the phone in the other ad Dean spoke softly and she listened, drinking in the sound of his voice.

"Sam's number is the speed dial for every number. Press anything, and it'll call us, ok?"

"Okay."

"Don't turn it off. We'll call you as soon as we're on our way back. If you don't answer on the second ring, I'll hang up and try again. If I get voicemail, then I'll officially panic, and break every speed limit law in the country to get back here." She heard the attempt at humor, but she knew he wasn't smiling. She offered him a small grin though before she replied.

"You panic? That would be something to see."

"No it wouldn't. I'm seven and a half percent less good-looking when I'm panicking, and I'd hate for you to see me any less irresistible than I usually am; it might scare you." He was returning her small smile with a slight grin of his own.

"I don't scare that easy."

"I wish you would," the grin was gone, replaced by a look of utmost seriousness, and his voice was devoid of humor and sadly quiet, "I wish you were more scared than you are now, Anna. I wish you would beg me to stay with you. I wish you wouldn't be here alone without me. I wish you were half as scared to stay as I am to leave, because then you would demand I didn't go and leave you alone." Anna looked away and tried to hold back the tears. It was the first time Dean had actually said something that suggested he cared for her like that. She wasn't sure if she was willing to believe that he might feel for her as much as she did for him. It made it that much more frightening to think what the day might bring.

Some part of herself was chiding, telling her to suck it up and get over it; that it would only be a couple of hours, nothing could go wrong. But the bigger part of her had a bad feeling about the entire situation, and she knew in her heart as much as the Winchesters knew it that something could go wrong at any moment, and any of them could be dead before the next few hours ended. She managed to collect herself and meet Dean's worried gaze.

"I'll be fine, Dean. I'll see you soon enough." He took a breath, looking at her, and Anna sensed he was gathering the courage to say something.

"Here…" he finally breathed, reaching behind his head and untying the leather cord bearing the bronze colored amulet that hung around his neck, "put this on." Anna's eyes widened as she held the little face in her palm, feeling the worn cord and the smooth metal in the shape of a head. She recognized it from almost every dream she had ever had; Dean never seemed to take it off. She had no idea what it meant, but she knew that it meant more than just 'good luck'.

"I want you to be safe," Dean added, and it was the only explanation he offered. It was more than Anna could've asked for. She tied it around her neck, and she knew that if this amulet, this temporary gift of protection and token from Dean, if this didn't keep her safe, nothing would.

And she finally understood how very scared Dean was.

She determined that she was going to do her best to ease that fear.

"My turn," she said, and she smiled at the look of confusion on Dean's face. She pulled her own necklace from around her neck, the broken Schlage key twirling as it hung from the chain. She reached to place it around Dean's neck, and he ducked his head a bit for her. He was looking awed at the gift. Anna took his face in her hands and looked directly at him.

"I'll expect you to return it when you get back, okay?" she whispered.

They both knew it the real meaning behind her assurance. Anna was declaring that things would be fine, that there was no reason to fear, that the brothers would return unharmed and Anna would be in one piece, and they would be together again to do a repeat exchange.

Anna closed her eyes as Dean pulled her close into his strong embrace, and she told herself that she had no reason to worry; nothing bad was going to happen.

She didn't know how wrong she was.


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

Sam sat on the edge of the bathtub, counting silently to himself. _465, 466, 467, 468…_ He'd decided he was going to count to six hundred before he came out of the bathroom. He had come in with salt and holy water so that he looked like he had something specific to do, but really, he was just giving Anna and Dean some time alone before they left.

Sam grinned to himself, thinking that he was such an awesome brother. Of course, he'd never admit to Dean that he was doing this; he didn't think Dean had yet admitted to his obvious feelings for Anna.

There would be time for that later. Hopefully.

Sam shook himself, correcting his thoughts. Of course there would be time later. Today was going to go as easy as pie. It was just a simple trip to a library only twenty-five minutes away, fifteen if Dean drove, and Anna would be safer here than anywhere else with the protection they'd installed.

529, 530, 531…

Sam thought he could hear Anna practicing firing the gun.

553, 554, 555…

Sam wondered if Dean would kiss her. Then he wondered how he could tell that he hadn't done that and more already.

577, 578, 579…

Gosh, counting this much was giving him a headache.

598, 599, 600.

Sam stood and reached for the door knob, hoping that he wasn't about to walk in at an awkward moment.

Dean sat there, with Anna in his arms, thinking that now would probably be an ideal moment to kiss her. It struck him as odd to think that he hadn't done that and more already, considering that he'd known her for two whole days, but then he thought that maybe that was a good thing.

Dean couldn't remember the names of most of the girls he'd bedded the same hour he met them.

Dean didn't ever want to forget Anna.

She pulled away from him, still holding his arms, but far enough to meet his eyes.

Ok, it was officially a perfect kiss moment.

But for some reason, though it was thoroughly unusual for him, he hesitated.

_What if she doesn't want to? What if she doesn't want that? What if she doesn't want_ me_? She'll only have to leave anyway… _Dean could see the hesitation in her eyes too.

Sam came out of the bathroom, salt and holy water in hand, looking like he hoped he wasn't showing up at a bad time.

Dean and Anna let go of each other immediately, and Dean stood up, grabbing the keys and gesturing to Sam that they should get going.

He smiled at Anna, and was relieved when she smiled warmly back, and he knew that next time, he wouldn't hesitate to kiss her. He knew that no matter what, he didn't want to miss any opportunity.

Next time.

Anna sat there in Dean's arms, thinking that now would probably be the perfect cinematic kiss moment. It struck her as odd that she wanted Dean to kiss her; sure, she'd known _of_ him for almost an entire year, but she'd only really _known_ him for two days. But then again, she knew how much of a ladies man he usually was anyway. The fact that he hadn't put the moves on her much yet might mean he wanted to do this differently, and that pleased her.

Or it might mean that he didn't want to do this at all.

She pulled back a bit, still holding him, but far away enough to see his jade-colored eyes. She wanted so badly to kiss him. She considered going for it, not waiting for him to move this time. She hesitated.

_What if he doesn't want to? What if he doesn't want that? What if he doesn't want _me_? I'll only have to leave anyway…_ Anna could see the hesitation in his eyes too.

Sam came out of the bathroom, salt and holy water in hand, looking like he hoped he wasn't showing up at a bad time.

Dean and Anna let go of each other immediately, and Dean stood up, grabbing the keys and gesturing to Sam that they should get going.

She looked to Dean as he followed Sam out the door. He turned back and smiled genuinely at her, and his eyes showed no more hesitation. He was sure now, and so was she. She returned the smile, and she knew that she wouldn't hesitate next time. She knew that no matter what, she didn't want to miss any opportunity that she might have with him. _Next time_, she thought as the door closed behind the Winchesters.

Next time.

Sam was surprised when Dean tossed him the keys after closing the motel room door. When Dean just walked past him and got into the passenger seat, Sam shrugged and moved to the driver's side.

Sam started the car and began to maneuver out of the lot. He decided it was best not to ask, but Dean was the one who struck up the conversation.

"Thanks," he said, sounding a bit embarrassed, but truly grateful. Sam looked at him, feeling a bit confused.

"For what?" he asked.

"You know what," Dean wasn't looking at him, "sitting in the bathroom like you had something to do. Leaving us alone for a bit. Thanks." Sam tried to stop himself from turning red, but he knew he was failing.

"Welcome," he muttered, glancing over at his brother, who was now gazing into the rear view as they pulled on the street. Sam thought that maybe he should go for it, considering the fact that Dean seemed in such a safe mood.

"So…you really, um…" he looked over at his older brother, "you really care about her, huh?" Dean didn't answer for a while.

"She can't stay with us." Sam knew that Dean didn't mean 'us', he meant 'me'. He also knew that Dean was answering a yes to the question. Sam drove down the road, thinking.

"Yeah, she'll have to go back," he agreed slowly, "but do you really think things'll just go back to normal, Dean? For her _or_ for us?" He tried to keep his eyes on the road while simultaneously watching his brother's reaction.

He saw Dean turn to look at him with a strange expression on his face.

"Nobody's normal, Sam," Dean replied.

Nothing else was said as they drove to the library, the Ohio sun bringing on the April afternoon.

Okay, waiting _sucked_.

And not just in the regular, annoying 'aw dang this bites' kind of sucking manner. This was nail-biting, foot bouncing; the worst this-entire-thing-is-screwed feeling in the world kind of sucking.

The guys hadn't even been gone for an hour, and already she was checking the time every other minute. She couldn't believe that she was allowing herself to get so scared over nothing, but without Dean and Sam here, everything seemed much more real, and that much more dangerous. Not only that, but she felt like there was something she was forgetting, something important.

Something felt wrong.

In other words, Anna did not like this waiting.

She blinked, realizing that she was humming again. She pursed her lips, willing herself to keep from engaging in her nervous habit. Now was not the time.

She sat in her particular spot, gun in one hand, cell phone in her lap, eyes peeled, alert for any sound or movement that might signal an evil demon coming to doom her. The double salt barrier around her was backed up by the massive devil's trap beneath the bed she sat upon, and its copy on the ceiling above her.

Still, something felt very wrong.

Nearly a gallon of holy water sat comfortingly at her side, while a second jug of more salt lay next to that; just in case. The bed, the room, even the gun were all blessed to keep Anna as protected as possible.

But something just felt _wrong_.

The familiar weight of her necklace had been replaced with something more assuring; the amulet hung around her neck as a reminder that it was better this way, safer this way. It had to be. All reason showed that every base was covered, every opening was blocked. Nothing could possibly get into room twenty-two of this motel to harm Anna.

_Dangit, something is so wrong._

Anna closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and stilled herself. Her foot stopped bouncing, her heart lessened its pounding, and she thought hard. Something was nagging at the back of her mind; a minor detail that was somehow crucial. The feeling she had wasn't natural – it was a new sense, a peripheral part of her psyche. It was the same part of her that had told her where to find Sam, and that she had needed to save Dean.

A warning. Something…

It clicked. Anna's eyes snapped open. Her head twisted to her left, her gaze focusing on the room's door, knowing what lay on the other side, condemning her.

The lamp to her left flickered. She shivered involuntarily.

In her lap, Dean's cell phone gave a chirp and died.

It took a little over twenty minutes to get to the library.

The fact that there was almost no traffic was more unnerving than lucky feeling.

Sam tried to ignore Dean's humming, but he couldn't help being a bit freaked out by how freaked out Dean seemed to be. He hadn't seen him this uncollected since that phantom traveler on the plane. He looked as though anything could set his panic button off.

They walked up to the head librarian, and Sam asked in his best well-meaning college-student voice if she knew where they could find the book they were looking for.

She was incredibly helpful, and unbelievably sweet. They found the book before five minutes had passed.

It all seemed too easy.

When Sam found an empty table to situate himself at, he noticed that Dean remained standing, preferring to pace erratically rather than sit still like a normal human being. Sam opened the book, and flipped through the pages to find the chapter on Temeluchus.

He had expected to have to really search before he found the book.

He'd thought he would have to provide some fabricated explanation to the librarian for wanting to see it.

He probably even thought they'd say the book had been sold or trashed or stolen by hippies.

Having it handed to him right away with no questions asked so quickly seemed wrong; it didn't match up with the worry in the pit of his stomach.

And his headache from counting to six-hundred earlier was still annoying him.

And dangit, Dean pacing like a maniac behind him was _not_ helping his concentration at all.

"Dean!" Sam hissed. Dean halted his movement and responded immediately.

"What's wrong?"

"_Nothing_. Calm down man, you're freaking me out."

"Oh." Dean resumed his pacing. Sam sighed.

"Look," Sam grabbed Dean's arm to stop his steps, "this won't take long at all. I'm gonna copy the passage down and we'll be out of here. We can be back at the motel within the hour." Dean looked surprised.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Sam admitted, shrugging, "this was way easier than I thought it'd be."

"Oh," Dean said again, a frown creasing his brow.

The brother's shared a look, both knowing that this was all just way too easy to last long.

"Alright," Dean put his hand out for the keys, "I'm gonna go start the car. I'll be waiting right out front."

"'Kay."

Dean walked out of the front doors, and Sam pulled his laptop closer, the demonology website up just in case he had to reference back to it. He found the chapter in the book on Temeluchus.

Taking a deep breath, Sam read.

_As aforementioned, transportation is one of his stronger powers, but it is unclear how far he is able to transport himself, and if his movement is limited by dimension or load. Based on textual account and minor speculation, it is supposed that if Temeluchus is in fact able to travel through the dimensions of space, time, or otherwise, then he would be able to transport a load of material or human type._ _Of course, the only reason… _

_Here it is_, Sam thought warily.

_Of course, the only reason a demon of Temeluchus' hierarchy and reputation could have for transporting anything as feeble to him as a human would be if the person was unable to be killed in one place, but might be more convenient to conquer in another location or time. There is a possibility that Temeluchus would concentrate so much on a single soul's demise, that when traveling, he could purposefully or involuntarily drag that soul and body with him, as is vaguely described in several Apocryphas. However, as in those accounts, he would surely end the victim's life as soon as he realized that he had a passenger, or an opportunity was opened to him._

_Oh no_. Sam read the passage through once more. _Oh no, no, no, no, no!_ Sam smacked himself in the head, cursing his stupidity. _Of course!_ If the demon's domain is limited by dimension, then the only way he could get rid of the special children from the other dimensions would be to bring them _here_.

_And we just gave him the opportunity he needs._

Sam sat horrified, his mind racing. He knew they needed to get back to the motel, they needed to get Anna out and leave.

But he also needed to find a way to beat this thing. _We can't run forever…_

Trying to calm his breathing, Sam looked quickly once more to the book, and a footnote caught his eye. At the bottom of the page in fine type beside an asterisk was a number: _22_.

Sam blinked.

_What the heck is that supposed to mean?_

He skimmed the page hurriedly, finding the sentence that the footnote referred to.

… _he is a transporter, and has a knowledge of numerology that he uses to his advantage often. He…_

Sam blinked again.

He turned to his laptop, scrolling down the page to see if it was on the website also. It was; the number was a link at the end of the line.

…_he_ _is a transporter, and has a knowledge of numerology that he uses to his advantage often (__22__). He…_

Sam looked back to the book. He nearly ripped the pages from their binding as he sped toward the appendix in the back. He found what he was looking for.

_Twenty-two is one of the ten Master Numbers of Numerology. Master Numbers are numbers that either come in doubles or triple pairs of the same single number. 22 is considered extremely unstable because of its ability to switch between itself and 4, its sum. According to Numerology, 22 is the number of "vision with action." Most consider it to be one of the strongest of esoteric forms, along with 11 and 33, but 22 is the most powerful of all numbers. It is often called The Master Builder, because it can turn the most ambitious of dreams into reality. _

_It is potentially the most dangerous of all numbers. It has many of the spiritual insights of the 11, combined with the methodical nature of the 4. It is unlimited, yet disciplined. It sees the archetype, and brings it into being in some material form. The 22 can easily cause difficult interior pressures, particularly at an early age. It must work toward agendas that are larger than personal ambition. It is also able to make the imagined real. This number is sacred to those who wield it in witchcraft or conjuring because of its rarity, and also its special powers. _

Sam stared at the page, missing whatever connection he was supposed to be seeing. _C'mon Sam, think! _He told himself angrily, _What am I missing? C'mon…_

…_has a knowledge of numerology…_

…_uses to his advantage…_

…_22…_

…_master number…_

…_vision with action…_

Sam glanced half-frantic over at his laptop, clicking on the '22' link. The same information came up.

And for the love of all that is holy, he _knew_ that he was missing something that was right in front of his nose.

Flashing green caught his attention on the screen. It was a banner proclaiming _'TEMELUCHUS IS THE DEMON OF APRIL! Click to see a calendar of demons in the months during which they have the most power!_'

_Wait._ Sam tilted his head to one side, the wheels in his finally head turning.

_It's April right now. _This_ is the month of April. And today is Apr-_

Sam stopped breathing, suddenly feeling sick. _Oh my god._

He clicked on the link. A disgustingly bright calendar came up displaying various months and the demons that were classified by them. The current day was clearly highlighted.

Sam gagged on his words as he spoke aloud to himself.

"Today is April 22nd."


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

She heard, but she never saw. She heard the grinding sound outside the windows, the whining screech against the outer walls. She followed the path of sound with the gun, willing herself to stop shaking, hearing herself breathing loudly through her nose.

She knew now that it was no use.

She heard the enormous cracking that was the sound of the floor and ceiling splitting. The devil's trap above her was suddenly broken, a gash-like crack running down its middle, and she knew the one below her was the same.

She knew now that she was the one trapped.

She heard the slight whooshing a few feet from the bed, directly in front of her. She could tell immediately that that was where it would appear. She aimed and fired, even while the figure didn't quite have a shape.

She heard the shots.

She heard herself scream.

She never saw the intruder.

But she did feel.

She felt the blood flow from her body as it was decimated.

22

22

22

The world seemed to start whirling around him as Sam realized several things at once.

It had been almost exactly 22 years after mom's death when the demon had reentered Sam's life and stolen Jess from him.

Sam had been 22 when he had begun to have the dreams.

Anna had said that she had had the headaches for almost a month; 22 days to be exact.

Anna had appeared at the creature's house just before 9:30 – probably at, oh say, 9:22.

Anna was at the motel, in the room that was numbered 22.

Sam wrenched his cell phone from his pocket, staring horrified at the time; 2:22.

And he was about 22 inches from the library's exit when his head exploded in pain, the world blurring agonizingly before him, sights of things he had no desire to see coming unbidden into his mind, his normal sight blinded by the vision that would reveal what he already knew.

Tears of pain leaked as he stumbled out into the parking lot, gasps of shock and a sharp cry escaping his lips even as he felt Dean catch him. His eyes were open but seeing something entirely different from the face that was speaking to him. As Sam's face twisted with the awful sight that he was witnessing in his mind, he couldn't find the voice to describe it to his brother, didn't have the heart to relate the vision to him. Even as the awful pain dulled to a throb in the back of his mind, even as his sight cleared and blurred back to normal so that Dean's frantic expression was visible, even as he saw in Dean's eyes that he didn't need to be told, that he somehow knew the awful truth; even then, all that Sam could do was utter a single word, a single name, pronounced with such defeat and fear that he knew Dean would nearly crumble at the sound.

"Anna!" the younger brother announced with anguish, and he recognized complete terror as it registered in Dean's expression, disappearing only as the eldest Winchester turned and sprinted. Sam ran at full speed to the Impala, though Dean still somehow made it there first. The older brother wrenched the passenger door open and flung himself into the car, slamming the door while Sam clutched his still pounding head. As the Chevy took off at a dangerously reckless speed, Dean was tense behind the wheel, his face a fierce glare of determination and self-directed fury.

Not then, not a week from then, not even a year from then did Sam ever tell Dean. He never told Dean what it was that he had seen in the vision.

He didn't have to.

Dean had never been one to lose his cool in a dangerous situation.

Always the calm and collected one, able to mask anything with a clever remark or sarcastic comment, he almost never allowed his emotions to cloud his judgment or get in the way of what he had to do. Sam always came first, the job came second, and fear came in bed late at night when no one could see him and nothing important required his immediate attention.

Dean was the strong one. He let Sam do the feeling and caring and crying; he carried the gun and shot the bad guy.

Dean had never been one to lose his cool in a dangerous situation. But there's a first time for everything.

Shifting in the driver's seat, barely noticing the road, pushing the accelerator further than it was ever meant to be pushed, Dean steered the car ever nearer to the motel where Anna was.

And he was freaking out.

He couldn't recall his hands ever trembling, but they were now, shaking just like the rest of him was. He tried desperately to control his breathing, but his lungs only seemed to want to take tiny breaths that made it hard for him to calm down and did nothing to help the screaming in his head stop.

At least he wasn't crying. Sam was, though. And that didn't help at all.

Glancing at his little brother as he broke every speed limit in the country, just liked he'd promised, Dean tried very hard to ignore the fact that Sam hadn't bothered to try and call Anna on the cell. The little silver phone sat on the floor of the Impala, unopened and silent. Dean had thought Sam wouldn't have stopped dialing once his fingers found the buttons, but since getting in the car, Sam had only sat clutching his head while tears ran down his face.

Dean tried to drive faster.

It was only a minute later when he realized that Sam's lips were moving. Dean wondered if he was saying something, but the elder brother couldn't find the words to speak. After looking once more, Dean understood, and it was all he could not to crash the car; Sam was praying.

"Sam," Dean said the name, not really knowing why. He didn't expect Sam to reply, and he himself didn't have anything to say. But Sam was his constant, the only comfort he had right now, and saying his name reminded him of that. Dean just couldn't think of anything else to say. He was terrified to say anything, to ask what Sam had seen; he didn't know if he could take the answer he might receive. Dean briefly wondered if Sam was crying because of the pain, or because of what he had seen in the vision. He cursed to himself as he fought the nausea that was suddenly rising inside of him.

The tires squealed in protest when he turned sharply into the motel's parking lot, and his door was opened before the car had come to a full stop.

But he didn't run to the room. He was so taken aback at the sight of the outside that he was froze beside the Impala's still open door, if only for a second's time. He knew without looking that Sam was doing the same.

It was empty. The lot was devoid of cars, and every room boasted vacancy. Even the manager's car was gone, and there was no sound at all. The silence itself was unnatural, but the room's actual outer appearance was downright scary; it looked completely fine, cleaner than he remembered, and bathed in the afternoon sunlight, the entire scene was thoroughly innocent looking.

It seemed too right, too regular; it was all wrong.

In the same second that Dean had taken it all in, he'd met Sam's eyes. Their shared look communicated their suspicion.

Before either of them had taken a full step, five gunshots sounded in quick succession, clearly coming from inside of the motel room.

Dean bolted, running as fast as possible to the door numbered 22.

He didn't recall drawing his gun, but there it was in his hand.

As he kicked towards the door to break it down, he felt the fear.

He feared what was behind that door, but it wasn't fear of the unknown. He knew before he ever opened the door what he would find.

Sam hated the sick sensation of déjà vu that came over him when he got inside.

He came in behind Dean, and his first observation was that the lights were out, but he could still see everything quite clearly. After passing the half-divider and coming to the single step that led down into the sleeping area, Sam froze. He thought he might pass out, or maybe throw up.

The room was practically destroyed. Both the ceiling and the floor were cracked down the middle, and bits of plaster littered the floor. No longer were there salt line or circles; instead, the salt was scattered evenly on the floor, like it had been wind-blown. The walls had odd dents in them, like something had been thrown hard against them. One wall had bullet holes; five bullet holes. There were scrapes too; scratches on the wall, in groups of three or four. They looked like fingernail marks.

But none of the damage even came close to comparing with the blood.

It was splashed on the beds, the floor, the ceiling and walls. It dripped down in long lines, and there were splotches of it on everything.

There was no way one body could hold this much blood. There was so much, and it was just overwhelming.

Sam gagged, stumbling as he followed the direction Dean had gone, and he crossed to the other side of the room, where he saw Dean kneeling down and looking helplessly upon Anna.

It was with a sick, hot swoop of emotion that Sam was reminded brutally of Dean lying on the floor in that cabin after their demon-possessed father had nearly killed him. Anna lay in the same position on her left side against the back wall, which was splattered with blood. Around her was a dark puddle, and Sam saw Dean realize what he was kneeling in, as his jeans were soaked through.

The worst part of it all was that she was still alive.

Sam could feel the bile rise in his throat as he realized that they were going to watch Anna die.

Dean kicked the door down like it was nothing, and he burst in, pushing roughly around the half-divider and stepping down into the room.

He barely saw the state the place was in.

All he could see was the blood.

He couldn't form a rational thought when he saw her. He was suddenly reminded of himself, lying in that position after the demon had nearly finished him off. He dropped the gun, ignoring the possibility that the demon might still be here.

All he knew was that Anna needed him.

He knelt beside her, and he panicked for a moment when couldn't tell if she was alive or dead. The blood was seaping into the carpet underneath her, and it was spilling over her arms that were wrapped around her chest. It was dripping out of her mouth, and Dean could feel his coherency slipping as he reached towards her, not touching her because he didn't know where to touch, what to do, how to help.

He knelt beside her, breathing heavily and unevenly. _Wh-what do I do, where do I – how do I stop th-the bleeding, there's so much, god so much blood and Anna, oh my god, I don't, I can't, I don't know wh-what to do…_

"De-ean-nn…" Dean met her eyes, as she said it. He could see the fear, the uncertainty, the warning, and the love. _Love-love! Oh god no, please, don't do this, I can't-I-I, how… _He saw her try to speak again, heard the awful gurgling as she struggled to breathe, could see how she shook as her chest hitched and she choked on her own blood. He could see and hear her choking, yet he felt strangled himself.

It was then that he noticed he felt wet. He looked down and saw that he was kneeling in a pool of her blood, and it was soaking into his jeans. He put his hands on the ground to keep himself from falling over, but he pulled them up quickly when he felt warm wetness on them.

And he told her the truth, he wasn't sure why, but needed to tell her something, needed to make sure she knew he was here, that he came, that he found her. He needed to explain why he wasn't doing anything, why he couldn't fix it. He needed Anna to know that he was at a loss.

"I don't-I-I don't know what to do…" he could feel himself falling apart, and when all Anna did was whimper, he raised his head, not caring that he was hyperventilating, not caring that his eyes were wild with frantic horror. He saw Sam, standing a few feet away and staring at him.

_Sammy_. His anchor, his brother, his life. Dean blinked and he came back to himself. He shoved away the panic, and the only thought he could keep was _hospital_. He looked back to Anna and scooped her hurriedly into his arms, hating how light she felt after being nearly emptied.

"I'm here, it's gonna be ok…"

He clenched his jaw when he heard the strangled half-sob that came from her when she was moved, but he cradled her in his arms and made his way quickly out of the room to the Impala. She gulped and twitched, and Dean's voice shook with every word as he spoke to her.

"Anna, please…sweetheart, I need you to stay with me…"

He knew Sam was already scrambling to get in the driver's side, and as Dean got in the back with Anna in his arms, Dean tried to tell himself that they would get there in time, that Anna would live, that this wasn't his fault, that she would stay, that she wasn't dying, that-

He met her eyes once more and he watched them roll back into her head. He felt his breath hitch as she stopped jerking, stopped trying to inhale, stopped trying to speak.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no…" He couldn't find enough air to keep talking, suddenly he couldn't make any sound at all. Then he felt a hot, horrible sensation in his chest and in the back of his throat, and he shook silently as the sobs wracked his body and his breath came out accompanied by more tears than he knew he had. He held Anna close to him and he sobbed, not caring that they were still eighteen minutes from the hospital, not caring that there was still warm blood all over him and the back seat of his car, not caring that he wasn't the one who did the feeling or the caring or crying.

Anna had just died in his arms.

When Sam pulled over to throw up, Dean kept sobbing.

When they got to the hospital, the staff had to pry Anna's dead body from Dean's hands.

He just wasn't ready to let her go.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Sam had always been the one more likely to freak out, if the occasion called for it.

Ever able to show up any chick when it came to sappy moments, Sam had no problem crying or caring or feeling. If Sam felt scared, then he was scared. If he was worried, then he let Dean know. If he wanted to talk, then heaven and earth could only try to stop him. But it was his big brother who always went in, guns blazing, confident and fearless, strong and often stupid, ready to fight by his side. Sam carried a gun and sometimes got the bad guy.

Dean carried Sam.

Sam had always been the one more likely to freak out, if the occasion called for it. But there's a first time for everything.

Sitting tense in the driver's seat, forcing the Impala to eat the road ever faster, Sam grip on the wheel was tight enough to strangle a person, and his face was all firm determination and sheer will.

Fear wasn't even an option.

_Get to the hospital, the hospital, faster to the hospital, need the hospital, Anna to the hospital, hospital, the hospital, get to the hospital…_

Despite the mantra, Sam managed to process another thought as he pressed the accelerator into the pavement.

This was a reversal of roles that they were experiencing; Dean had panicked, was panicking, and Sam was being the strong one, the thinking one, the driver and the fighter.

Right now, Sam was carrying Dean.

Sam gritted his teeth and pounded an angry fist once against the steering wheel, furious that the stupid car wouldn't go any faster.

He stayed firm, stayed determined, stayed strong as he drove…until Dean began to cry.

Sam glanced into the rearview mirror, feeling oddly lightheaded as his hero sobbed uncontrollably while holding the lifeless girl in his arms.

Sam pulled over, flung the door open, and vomited violently on the side of the empty road.

When they got to the hospital, Dean wouldn't let her go.

Sam almost felt he might be sick again.

It took four men and Sam to pulled Anna's body from Dean's grasp. When she was gone, all Dean did was cry and clutch Sam's shirt in his hands.

"I-I don't know what-what to _do_...I can't…I…" Dean words in between his wracking sobs broke Sam's heart.

"I know, I'm here, I've got you," Sam said the familiar words that had been said to him time and time again, catching his brother in a deep embrace and holding him there as he grieved, "I've got you Dean, I'm gonna take care of it…"

The hospital put her in the morgue. No one knew who she was, so she would probably end up in a local cemetery without a marker. Sam knew they would have to come back to salt and burn her.

Coming back as a spirit was totally the kind of thing Anna would do.

They left before the sun had fully set. Sam got Dean into the passenger seat where he sat glassy- eyed and stared at the dash with his blood-soaked hands resting on his blood-soaked jeans. Sam drove back to the motel, but parked down the street so it was just out of view.

Dean said nothing when Sam left without a word and returned six minutes later with their bags of clothes and weapons, as well as a wet rag.

Sam tried to clean out the massive amount of blood in the back seat as best he could while Dean sat quiet and unmoving. Even though most of it washed out, a slight smell remained.

Dean was equally silent when Sam drove back to the library and picked up his laptop from the 'lost and found'. It wasn't until Sam drove up to a new motel that was just a mile and a half away from the hospital that Dean made any noise at all.

"Sam…" it was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of a thousands agonized screams, and Sam had to close his eyes and steady himself before he could reply.

"I know, Dean," he sighed softly, looked at his brother's eyes, seeing the brokenness therein, and his heart broke again, "but we can't stay in the car all night."

Dean returned to staring at the dash.

Sam strode into the motel's front office, making sure to ask about the layout of the rooms. He asked the puzzled clerk if the beds were against the west wall, or if the bathroom was in the furthermost corner, and if there were any half-dividers at all, or steps into the sleeping area. He wanted the room to look nothing like the one they'd left earlier. He thanked the man profusely when he replied in the negative to every question, and asked for a prime numbered room. The confused clerk gave him room number seven, and bid him a wary goodnight.

Sam walked back to the car, noting that Dean was still sitting and staring.

He took a deep breath and headed over to coax his brother to come inside.

Dean had the strangest feeling that he was moving in reverse.

He was back at the motel, not in it or even pulled up beside it, but he knew it was just beyond those trees ahead.

He said nothing when Sam left to get their stuff from the room and came back with a wet rag to clean the car out. Dean knew it wouldn't help. Some things can't be washed away.

He continued to zone out until he realized that they were back at the library. He hadn't realized they'd left the laptop there. He moved a hand and felt the layer of dry blood coating it crack. He didn't move again. But he knew his jeans were caked too.

When Sam came back and drove again, Dean found himself thinking that he wished they didn't have anywhere else they had to go. He wished Sam would stop being strong so that he could stop feeling. He wished that he was the one taking care of things, that he was the one trying to comfort Sammy…he stopped himself and changed his mind.

He could never wish this upon Sam.

But, man, he sure hated this car. He pondered that for a moment. He'd never hated his car. It had always been his most prized possession, his home, his safe place. He _loved_ this car. Well, he had.

Now he wanted nothing more than to get out and never see it again. He felt sick just thinking about it.

When Sam pulled up beside a cozy looking motel that Dean remembered was close to the hospital, Dean remembered that he hated motels too.

"Sam…" he whispered, looking at his little brother for the first time, not able to say that he didn't want to go in there, that he couldn't bear it, that he never wanted to stay in another motel ever again.

"I know, Dean," Sam replied, offering a look that was all understanding, "but we can't stay in the car all night."

Dean wasn't sure. He hated the car, he hated the motel. He decided that either way he'd have to spend the night inside a place he hated.

At least Sam would be there. Yeah, he could do it if Sam was there.

It still took some coaxing on Sam's part. Dean's legs didn't seem to be working. But then again, maybe that was his brain's fault. His brain seemed to be shut off for some reason, and Dean asked himself why. _Oh yeah_, he thought, _so I don't have to think, to feel, to remember…_

He put his legs on autopilot and didn't think as Sam guided him to the room.

He couldn't help allowing a question to form itself fin his fuzzy mind when they got to the door. It was numbered seven, and Dean vaguely wondered why Sam hadn't gotten number eight. _He likes getting room number eight. His favorite number…_But then something occurred to him.

Eight is divisible by two, and when you divide it by two again, it becomes two, and right now Dean hated the number two and any number that involved it, like twenty-two.

He decided he hated eight also, and was extremely grateful that Sammy had gotten room number seven.

Sam opened the motel room door; the tiled floor, tasteless paneled walls, the track lighting were all starkly contrasting to the room they'd been in before. The room Anna had been attacked in. The room she'd been left in. The room she'd bled in, been found in, spoken her last word in…

When Sam guided him to one of the beds and made him lie down on it, Dean didn't argue. He just laid flat on his back and stared at the ceiling while Sam sat on the bed's edge with his head in his hands.

They remained that way the entire night long. Neither of them bothered to turn off the light. Darkness seemed too personal.

Morning came both too quickly and agonizingly slow. It seemed strange that Dean could want the days to go faster, and at the same time he wished that things would just stop continuing. He decided not to think about it, and turned his brain off again.

They left before dawn, and Sam steered them back to the hospital. Dean knew why they were there. Sam gripped his shoulder gently once before he snuck around the back of the building alone to rob the hospital's morgue. Sitting in the hated car, Dean's brain wouldn't stop trying to think and remember. He closed his eyes to try to block out the sight of the hospital. He opened them again right away, because the images his memory provided were worse. He chose to stare at a nearby tree and his mind thankfully quieted.

Sam came back almost an hour later carrying a large, long, dark body bag in the pink light of the rising sun. Dean ignored him while the body was placed in the back seat. It didn't bring an new onslaught of hurt, didn't make him feel any different.

It wasn't her anymore.

Another hour later, and the fully risen sun saw them in an empty field, behind a convenient hill that hid them from any curious eye. Sam built and lit the fire, placing Anna's body reverently on the mass of wood and tinder before dousing her with lighter fluid and a generous amount of salt and a flaming match to top it off.

It occurred to the sandy-haired brother, during one of the moments that his brain switched on, that his amulet was either lost, or burning with her. He realized he didn't care; it was probably useless anyway. It hadn't helped her any. He tried to forget that her necklace bearing a broken key was still around his neck, hidden beneath his t-shirt. He tried to ignore it. He failed.

Dean stood watching the pile burn, incredibly grateful that at least Sam was close enough to catch him if he fell, which he felt he might at any moment. At some point, he couldn't recall when, Sam must have caught him and helped him down to his knees, because that was the position Dean found himself in when he began to cry again. His hands, washed clean of blood by his brother the night before still disgusted him when he remembered how little they had helped her. His clothes, clean and free of stains felt wrong because he could only picture how perfect Anna looked when she wore his clothes. His face, it seemed strange for it to be as twisted, and screwed up with despair as it was. And his body, it felt cold; cold because she wasn't there with the amazing warmth she offered.

Time seemed to pass in great dollops and the sun was low in the sky when the flames were burning themselves out. Ashes were the only evidence left of a life this world had only known for two days, and that her world would never know again.

After all, if she was dead here, how could she not be dead there too?

The sun was setting behind them when they left. Dean didn't know where they were going, he honestly didn't care.

But he was through with silence. Sam had been quiet since it happened, hadn't asked questions, hadn't bothered him, hadn't argued with him or pushed him to do anything at all. It was exactly what he'd needed while his brain was off, but right now it was on with the volume cranked up loud, and the guilt and devastation screaming in his head was just too much to deal with, too much memory of blood and loss and fear and panic and shame and he _needed _Sam to talk to him, distract him or he was going to drown-

"Dean?" Dean closed his eyes and let out a ragged breath as all the sound in his head muted if only for a moment when he heard Sam's voice. He didn't turn to look at his little brother, but he knew Sam was eyeing him, and that helped, just the tiniest bit, to know Sam was there. Dean opened his eyes and swallowed, knowing that Sam didn't expect an answer, but felt he should say something anyway.

He found that he couldn't speak, however. And suddenly, he had a thousand things he wanted to say: _When is it gonna stop, when will the hurt go away, will I feel like this forever, how did you do it, how did you survive without Jessica, how could you be so strong as to ever laugh again or breathe again or find the motivation to carry on, how do I do this, why couldn't I do it, why couldn't I save her, why did I leave her, why is this happening, why her and not me, why didn't I tell her, why couldn't I say I loved her, why didn't I kiss her, why couldn't I keep her, why couldn't she stay, how am I supposed to do this, I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do, I don't know…_

"I'm here Dean." Dean thanked every god of every religion that Sam was there.

"Yeah…" Dean managed to rasp out, sounding strangled and pained even to himself.

"It'll take a long time Dean." For once, he was glad that Sam seemed able to read his mind.

"Yeah," Dean whispered again, still staring unseeing ahead.

"But I'm here. I can't promise to make it stop, but I'll be here." Dean felt a now familiar sensation in the corners of his eyes and he struggled with everything he had left to _not_ cry again. Unable to say anything more, Dean just nodded in response to Sam. _Keep talking Sam, don't stop, I don't wanna cry, but I need to hear you right now…_

"And she knew. She knew that you loved her." _Oh man, oh man, oh man…_

"I don't know how it's done, Dean," Sam's voice was softer now, and Dean let another shaky breath out before nodding to show he heard as Sam kept going, "I don't know how to make things go back to normal. But I'll be with ya all the way to figure it out, 'kay?"

Dean gave a small cough to keep the sob in his chest from rising, feeling how much his shoulder's wanted to shake and how much his eyes wanted to overflow.

_Nobody's normal, Dean. Nobody's normal, Dean. Nobody's normal, Dean._

Dean knew things wouldn't go back to normal, knew things had never been normal to begin with. Dean blew out another emotional breath, unable to keep his eyes from letting one tear escape and glide down his face as he thought that maybe that was how it was done. Maybe you survived by striving for something attainable, not normalcy, but the next best thing.

Dean finally turned to face his brother who was driving them down the open Ohio road, and he managed to get out one sentence before the urge to cry became unbeatable.

"Nobody's normal, Sammy."

Dean put his head in his hands, and when Sam placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, Dean allowed himself to sob for awhile, determined that this would be the last time.

The key on the necklace hung innocently around his neck.

Dean decided that he was never going to take it off.


	18. Epilogue

EPILOGUE 

The morning sun shone brightly through the open shutters, streaming across the bedroom in lighted strips. A large wardrobe stood against the left wall with doors open, revealing shirts, skirts, dresses and folded pants in assorted colors. A small but very full laundry basket in the farthest corner was bursting with clothes, towels, and sheets in need of detergent, awaiting their turn to be washed and dried. French doors leading from the bedroom to the rest of the unseen house were covered with heavy curtains, hiding the mess inside from the other occupants of the residence. Against the right wall stood a chest of drawers, not every drawer quite closed, so that the strap of one bra or the leg of one pair of jeans peaked over the tops their respective compartments, reminding their owner that they were there. On the floor were books; large and small, thin and thick, books of every color and genre were stacked precariously, suggesting that the only thing they were in need of was a shelf to call home. A box of shoes was situated half concealed by more clothes that needed folding, and various sheets homework that needed doing. Clutter occupied the room, but so did a feeling that everything was in its proper place, exactly where it could be found and appreciated. A group of stuffed animals lay near the laundry basket, and some random sketches of deep, intense eyes lay abandoned beside them, as if the artist had tired of attempting to perfect the particular green of the irises, trying to capture the true essence of whoever's eyes they were meant to be.

And right up against the wall with the window and shutters was a four post bed, covered in blankets and a comforter with a beautiful red duvet, assorted decorative pillows tossed about, and the still form of someone sleeping.

The red numbers of the digital alarm clock showed 9:30 AM, and the dark-haired girl in the bed bolted upright, gasping as she awoke with a start.

Breathing heavier than one is expected to when barely waking, she cast her gaze about the room frantically, as if expecting to be in another place, in another time, in the company of…someone. Wide eyes blinked as recognition registered in her expression, and her breathing slowed as she took in the sight of her bedroom, her furniture, her clothes – her home. Emotions flashed in rapid succession across her face; fear, shock, confusion, relief, despair, revelation…and then a pronounced sadness coupled with an unwillingness to accept. Slowly, as if unsure that the floor would hold her, she left the bed, seeming to feeling with her hands across her arms, her face, her chest and stomach, looking like she didn't believe they were all there. Her eyes watered slightly, only slightly, as she moved to the curtained doors, pushing the fabric aside and pulling the doorknob, stepping into a quiet hallway. She looked to her left, seeing the closed door of a master bedroom, hearing the soft sounds of breathing that came from her still sleeping parents inside. She turned to her right and walked, passing the stairs that led down to the first floor, passing the loft, hand automatically lifting to feel the necklace that was always around her neck. Unconsciously fingering the metal that served as her chain's pendant, she came to the doorway of another sleeping person, a young boy who snored softly, legs curled under him and a spiderman figurine clutched in hand. Her already watering eyes flooded just the smallest bit more, but did not overflow. She turned away from the doorway, following the hallway to the bathroom at the end of it, letting go of the necklace she didn't know she was fumbling with and grasping the door knob.

Fighting a small sob, she took one look behind her, as if to confirm whatever it was she wanted so badly to deny, to refute. Just before she pushed the bathroom door open, she uttered just one whisper, more to herself than to anyone that might have heard.

"Just a dream."

She turned the knob, pushed open the door, and faced the mirror that was on the wall of the bathroom. She took in the sight of herself, and her eyes widened in an outrageous combination of horror and relief, her mouth gaping and gasping. She raised her hand to her mouth, trying and failing to stifle the sobs that came unbidden now, tears streaming down her cheeks and dripping onto the tiled floor as she crumpled against the bathroom wall, a heap of wracking sobs and cries of both anguish and gratefulness.

The mirror still reflected her black camisole and red pajama pants. It revealed her tan skin and dark hair. And it showed the necklace around her neck; not a chain at all, not a broken key, but a black leather cord with a small, bronze colored amulet that hung giving her all of the proof that she would ever need.

Down the hall, her sobs echoed. Down the hall, her slumbering brother's eyes opened from sleep. Down the hall, the nine-year old boy heard the sounds of Anna crying – and he smiled.

He smiled with absolute pleasure as his usually brown eyes flashed a sickening shade of unnatural yellow.


End file.
